Her Father's Daughter
by Joker-Girl-Kelly
Summary: Her life hadn't exactly been a cake walk to begin with, but she's finally got things all under control, at least well enough for a teenager. And then the giant man-cat comes knocking her door down and...well...it's all downhill from here, isn't it? Yes. Yes, it is. / AU. MAIN FOCUS IS AN OC, no definitive pairings for a while. Rated M just for safety. Mostly language.
1. Just the Beginning 1

**Don't own the universe, obviously. Or any characters you'll recognize later on. You know the what's up.**

 _ **So...yeah. This is a thing. A long, monstrous thing. Much of which is actually written already because I get a little too into my daydreams...don't judge me! Ahem. Anyway. There's plenty more where this came from if anyones halfway interested in staying tuned. Reviews are appreciated, but I ain't beggin' for 'em, I'll post either way for now because it's mostly written already. Hope yah enjoy!**_

...

It's so...so cold out here. Cold and dark. Carol James Fletcher had run for so long she can't even begin to remember her way back. It had felt so good to just let go, but now she's good and lost and oh God what if no one ever finds her out here, what if her mother is so angry she won't even...

Shivers travel down her body, intense, almost crippling. The fevers back again probably, maybe that's why she's so cold. But she doesn't feel so sick right now.

What had they even been fighting about this time, anyway? The eleven year old can't remember. She just remembers the anger. The white hot rage that had consumed her thoughts until she'd stomped out of the house and flown off into the woods. Why had she gotten so angry? She doesn't feel any anger now. Now she just feels scared and cold and alone.

So scared. Her heart feels like it's trying to pound it's way out of her ribcage. Still shivering too, but not sick, not coughing, this feels...different.

She hears...things. Grass and brush rustling, as though something is skulking through the night. Perhaps something with teeth. Something that might want to eat a lost little girl right up. There's a reason she's been told to stay away from the woods that surrounds her house, especially at night. A strange itch starts up in her knuckles as she grows more on edge; she can't explain the sensation, nor can she explain why her fists clench like they do in response to it.

But the moon provides her with a suprising amount of light; she can see pretty well, and there's nothing around. Nothing that close to her.

She dries her tears as best she can and tries to think, but it's hard. Her teeth chatter. All she wants is a warm cup of her mother's favorite chamomile tea..sitting by the fireplace with a fire going bright, nice and warm and...

Wait. She smells..she smells that. A fire. Like a campfire, the pleasantly sweet smell of burning pine wood. She doesn't even have to think about it; her reaction is instinctive. She gets to her feet and lifts her nose a bit, sniffing at the air. Her feet begin carrying her back through the trees around her, in the one direction she hadn't tried going yet.

It's a good hour before she emerges out of the trees and finds herself at the very edge of the clearing that marks the grounds of her mother's large cabin. Sure enough, all the lights are on and there's smoke trailing up out of the chimney.

How had she smelled...?

Confused and shivering in her bare feet, with a twig sticking out of her hair and mud smudged on her arms and cheek, she wanders over and slips in through the back door...

"Carol James...!"

...

"...Fletcher, that is enough."

"But...Mom, I really, really don't want to keep doing dancing!"

"I know, you've made that very, very clear, but your Grandmother..."

"Who cares what Grandma thinks! I'm not that great at it anyway, I want to do..."

"Carol!" Her mother's snaps, voice raised now, and Carol knows better than to interrupt her again. "I know that you want to try hockey. You are my daughter. So I have decided that you will do both," Carol's eyes widen, her mouth opening again in her excitement, but her mother talks over her, "or you will do neither. Is that clear?"

Carol's mouth snaps shut again as she nods vigorously.

...

Oh, God. Grandmother is right there, in the front row. Dressed, impeccable as ever, in Prada and Coach with hair neatly done and her face painted on, Carol Fletcher the elder looks like she belongs in a fashion magazine. Certainly she doesn't belong here, in a public school auditorium, waiting for her grandaughters dance competition.

Grandfather, on the other hand...she smiles as he spies her and waves jovially.

"Is that her?" Carol's only friend on the dance team, a tall and lanky blonde, comes up to peer out from behind the stage with her.

"Yep." Carol nods towards the rich woman in the front row, then shakes her head. "She's gonna hate my guts when she sees how terrible I still am at this."

"But you're not that terrible." Her friend sounds confused. "Actually, you're one of the best in our class."

Carol bites her lip, shaking her head. "To impress her, I have to be the best."

"Well then," her friend shrugs, "guess it all depends. Just how bad do you want to impress her?"

If Carol does impress her grandmother, the old woman has promised to not only stop bothering Carol about hockey, but also to finance the diner that has been Joan Fletcher's dream for years.

"You have no idea." Carol murmurs back to her friend.

.

The whole auditorium shoots to its feet and cheers for Carol. The judges give her a near perfect score. No one else quite matches up. As the last girl walks off stage looking heavily disappointed, Carol lets out a sigh of massive relief. It's over.

And Carol won.

.

Her grandparents meet her back stage, her grandfather holding a lovely bouquet of colorful flowers and an envelope.

Her grandmother is beaming with pride. "My darling, you have far exceeded any expectations I had. You were impeccably poised. I've just got done telling your mother we'll have to throw you a party for your birthday coming up, something a little more - erm, mature for you, since you're turning thirteen." The old woman cups Carol's cheek. "I'm so very proud of you."

"We both are. You were stunning, sweetpea. Simply marvelous." Her grandfather plants a kiss on her forehead as he hands her the bouquet and the envelope.

Carol nods, smiling as she smells the flowers. "Thank you!"

As the pair walks back off, Carol shoves the flowers aside without ceremony and tears into the envelope. Could it be...just possibly...is she so lucky?

She pulls out a card, some mass-produced congratulaTori horseshit with a flowery poem her grandmother might well have never even read through (though Carol does, and decides it was probably picked out by her grandfather). But that's certainly not what makes Carol's eyes go wide as her heart starts to fluttering in her chest.

No, what really excites Carol is the check hidden in the fold of the card with a dollar amount hefty enough to put a down payment on a house.

...

"Yes! That's my girl, Carol!"

Carol stops dead on the ice for half a moment, eyes scanning the crowd with frantic abandon. Had she really just heard...? No. It couldn't be. Her mother is supposed to be having date night with...she'd said she couldn't get away, she...

She's right there in the front row. Eyes lit up and a smile tugging at her lips even as she gestures for Carol to get her head back in the game.

"Don't look at me, go, go!"

...

Carol can't stand him.

She's thirteen, going to be fourteen soon, and understands plenty well that this intense sort of gut feeling she gets about things might not be exactly normal. But then again, there's a lot about her that isn't normal. The way she can hear things miles farther away than anyone else can hear. The way she can see in the dark without a flashlight. The way she can smell things...like when there's a bear or a wild cat straying a little too close to the cabin she and her mother live in.

(It's also far from normal that she can traipse out quite fearlessly to scare whatever it is off herself. Even farther from normal that she doesn't always have to scare it; just has to form a certain sound in her own throat, and the animal will trot calmly off as though she'd just asked it nicely.)

There's also the way her eyes glint gold when she's upset. It's a miracle no one important has noticed that one yet, though Carol's gotten good at keeping her temper in check (at least in front of those that matter, that is).

She can also smell when someones been drinking, even though they're trying to cover it up with cologne and copious amounts of minty mouthwash.

She thinks, at first, that the mouthwash may be what she's smelling on him. So she pays closer attention to how the same brand of it smells when her mother uses it. And the answer is no. Ma smells like mouthwash. He smells like something a hell of a lot stronger than the tea he makes for himself and Ma.

Carol can't stand him.

His smile is too wide, his words are too sugary. He's a lawyer. So maybe these things are just par for course, but...but...

She tries to tell her mom. "Ma... please. Don't..don't let him... Just wait, just..."

"Carol, you wouldn't understand, your grandmother..."

"I know how grandma is but he's...I think he's..."

"He's what? Carol James, will you just spit it out?"

"I...I smelled something on him. A couple times. Acohol, Ma."

"How could you possibly smell that?"

The conversation had ended there. Carol couldn't risk explaining. Couldn't risk her mother finding out just how not normal Carol is. She can't be sure how the older woman would react, and the thought of finding out only to have it go all wrong turns her stomach.

Within a month, Joan Fletcher has a big, polished diamond adorning a certain finger on her left hand.

Within two, the wedding is planned.

Within four, he's already moving in.

(That's about when the fights start. He can't stand Carol, either.)

...

"Where've you been? You were supposed to be home an hour ago."

Carol's upstairs in her room, and their voices are hushed, but she hears. She hears everything.

"I had some work to finish at the office."

"I called."

"I had the phone switched off. Screens distracting."

Something slams down on the kitchen counter a little harder than it should've. Her mother swears. "What the hell are we doing here if you were just going to...to..."

"To what?" His tone is condescending. "What have I been doing? You're tired. Not thinkin' straight. Where else would I have been if not at the office?"

Carol knows the answer to that. She can sense lots of things her mother can't.

Dinner is ready ten minutes later. Carol makes her way down to sit quietly at the dining room table, passing him up close as she goes. He pays her no mind. She sniffs the air discreetly, taking in his scent. It's perfume this time, mixed with wine. If he'd been at the bar, it would've been vodka on his breath. Wine and perfume means something else entirely.

Carol's mother has never worn perfume.

She wants to say something. Anything. Her stomach churns and she barely touches dinner, just stares down at it quietly so as to avoid looking at him.

She's not even fourteen. She shouldn't even know what 'hate' really is. But there's no denying this.

She absolutely hates Him.

...

She blames herself, at least somewhat, when all is said and done and she can think on it more clearly.

Carol's own hatred for her stepfather had translated into her simply disappearing most nights after school, finding other things to do. Sneaking out, too, after dark when she should be in bed, going to places no young teenager with half a brains worth of common sense should probably be frequenting. Hanging out with a crowd of older kids her mother would not approve of in the least.

She knows he and her mother start having arguements too after not too long. But she allows herself to believe that's her mother's problem. The thing is, she's afraid. Not of him. Well, a little bit of him, of what he could be capable of. But afraid of herself too. Of what might happen if he...

It never occurs to her, it really doesn't even halfway occur to her that he might...

She's young and just doesn't know.

And then she does come home one rare night after school and he's not around but Ma is. Ma is shaky and smells of salty tears and she won't look at Carol, but Carol catches a glimpse anyway.

"Mom." She can't help it, the edge to her voice. "Ma, look at me. Look at me!" She grabs the older woman by the arm, forceful.

Her mother's cheeks are shiny with tears. The streaks on the left side trail from an eye that's already swollen and bruised down to a lip that's split and raw.

"Jesus Christ, Mom." Carol breathes, truly in shock.

Her mother's mouth moves, but no real words make it past. She collapse into a chair, head in her hands as she's overcome with sobs. On the table next to her, Carol notes, are some kind of papers. A closer look proves them to be...

Her mother wants a divorce. And the bastard beat her for the thought.

Carol staggers back a few steps. She tries to conjure up some comfort for the older woman, but she can't, not right now. Right now she feels an anger building, hot and raw. It burns through her veins like fire, like nothing she's ever quite felt before. Her mother calls to her, sounding desperate, worried, but Carol barely even hears her. Heart pounding in her ears, she storms back out of the house and makes a phone call with the small, simple cell phone her mother had bought her. She knows a friend who'll help her out...

And she knows just where he'll be. There's a bar a little closer to town...

Her friend asks her questions, trys to keep Carol talking. Carol explains, but won't be persuaded to abort her new mission.

What do you think you're gonna do? Her friend tries to get her to think it through.

Carol doesn't know. She just knows she has to do something.

Her cell rings, several times, her mother trying desperately...but Carol finally shuts the phone off. Her friend hesitates to leave her, but Carol insists. She waits for hours. Until it's so late it's early, and most of the bars other patrons stagger out. And then, finally, he does too. She doesn't mind having waited. It just means there'll be no one around to see - the bars closing staff will be busy cleaning the place up. There's music still being played inside. No one will hear.

He's drunk. Doesn't see her as he staggers to his car. He'll likely crash himself into a tree in the dark, end up dead anyway with any luck, but something about this ending doesn't sound as satisfying to Carol.

Something inside her won't be happy unless she finishes this herself.

It's not like she's intending to try and hurt him physically. Fighting fire with fire gets no one anywhere and she knows it, and violence is never the first solution she'd come up with for anything, she's only fourteen.

(It just so happens that for some reason that she will never quite be able to fathom, people are always looking for a fight with her.)

"Hey! Dickhead!" She snarls at him as she trails a hot path across the parking lot. And she doesn't sound like Carol at all. Her voice is low and rough, and the language she's using is hardly the sort her mother taught to her. "You wanna explain to me just what the hell you thought you were doing, roughin' my Ma up like that?"

Leaning heavy against his stupid little sports car, he turns to her and stares with owlish, bleary eyes. "You? The hell 'r you...?"

Her feet carry her a few steps closer to him without her giving them any conscious permission. Her fists clench. "I oughta call the cops!"

He scrubs a hand over his face. "You're not gonna do that."

"Just try an' stop me!"

He's got a look in his eyes...too calm. Icy. "I could be good for you, kid. Not much you wouldn' get away with if you just played a little nicer with me. What kinda rich kid doesn't want a lawyer for a father anyhow?"

"You are not my father." She spits. "You're gonna let my Ma go, or I'm gonna tell my grandpa what you did to her. He always believes me. He'll take care of you reeaal quick!"

"You won't."

"Watch me."

Anger. It's so abrupt. His features contort all at once, something cold and hard and mean surfacing behind his eyes. He's coming at her, reaching for...

Metal glints in the light of the few lamps lining the bars parking lot. He's got a knife. He's got a knife? Oh Jesus. He won't hurt her, right? He literally can't. Well, no, she doesn't know that for sure, just has a striking suspicion at this point, just a hunch based on...

And what's he intending to do anyway? Cutting Carol up wouldn't help him any, but...but he's drunk and she'd just threatened him...and...and...

And if that knife does hit home, he'll see the wound heal. If it heals like she thinks it will. Even drunk he'll recognize Carol for what she is. Can she afford...? An image flashes in her mind of her Ma hunched over the kitchen table, shoulders shaking with her sobs as she holds her bruised face in her hands.

In the few seconds it takes for her stepfather to stagger a few short feet closer to her, something in Carol snaps. Instinct takes over, protective; anger washes over her mind. Something wild and untamable surfaces for the first time, and for the next few moments she remembers nothing.

.

Her stepfather never makes it close enough to do her any harm. He's drunk as a skunk but the change in her - in her stance, the set of her shoulders, the look in her eyes - it's impossible for him not to sense the sudden danger.

His stepdaughter is a short, scrawny, somewhat horsey, very awkward young teenager with a tendency to hide bashfully behind her hair when upset. Standing before him now - that's not his stepdaughter. There's a determination there, in the way she holds her chin up and stands straight to face him, and the gleam in her eyes is...well, it's downright...

PredaTori.

It doesn't process in enough time for him to back down, though.

The time in between feels like hours. Really,, it's only a handful of seconds before she screams, an angry, primal sound, and pounces.

.

Only minutes pass. It must be only minutes. He's still alive, though fading fast.

Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God.

"Shit." She breathes the word, staggering back a few steps, staring down at her...

Her claws are still extended and coated with blood. Blood. It's everywhere. What has she done? He'd been coming at her..with the knife and..and...she'd...

He'll bleed out long before an ambulance could possibly get to him. They're simply too far out from town.

Tears spill over to stream down her cheeks. Self defense. He'd had a knife, right, so it was just...

He's staring at her as he chokes on his own blood. At her hands, the razor sharp spikes of bone still extending out of them. "Little fuckin' freak." He croaks.

Her first thought is to run. Just book it until she can't keep going and only then call her friend to come get her. But she can't go home like this, blood on her hands and splattered a bit on her blouse, and if she just leaves him...

No one'll know she was ever here, though.

And the bar is a real hole in the wall. Lord knows why he likes the place so much but they're surrounded by woods on every side out here. It wouldn't be hard to...

She's turning her own stomach, thinking it through so coldly as she was about to. She's lightheaded now, her knees going weak, and she nearly collapses, nearly puts back what little is left in her belly.

Oh God. What to do, what to...

No. No, she knows exactly what to do. She takes out her cellphone and dials a number.

.

"Jesus f-ing...what the hell...?" Tierney Doran is her name. An older girl, out of high school and not around as much, but still loosely running with the same group Carol does. She's a mutant, too, by some strange stroke of fate, super strong. This won't be the first time she's had Carol's back. "I mean...just...Jesus." Her eyes widen as she stares at the corpse slumped against the pricey red sports car in the corner of the parking lot.

"He-he had a knife." Carol stutters, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "I don't...I didn't...I was scared. I was just, I didn't, I wasn't going to...it just happened!"

Tierney eyes Carol up, scowling. Heaves a heavy sigh. "Stop blubbering, kid. Keep your voice down, someone in the bar could hear you."

"But - but what am I go-going to...?"

"You're gonna listen to what I tell yah and do exactly as I say."

"Maybe I should just..just...I killed him, oh my God T I really killed him, I...

"He pulled a knife on you after beatin' yahr Mom half to hell. You knew what you wanted when you told me to bring you out here. What men like him deserve. Look at me, kid." The older girls green eyes are hard, and her tone brooks no room for arguments. "You sent him to rot in hell because that's just what he deserved. Now I'll get you out of this but you gotta tough it up for me. If you don't your mom might have to watch you go to prison. There's no choice, I'm sorry."

Carol closes her eyes and conjures up the image again of her mother...her eye so swollen and purple, her lip split wide and bleeding...the anger returns, and clarity with it this time. She nods. "Ok. What do I do?"

Tierney turns to eye up the corpse again, shaking her head. "You're gonna owe me for this. You really have no idea. Alright, here's where to start..."

...

It's late by the time Joan Fletcher falls asleep. Carol isn't back yet and still won't answer her phone. Joan opens a bottle of wine, sips straight from it, paces the living room, back and forth and back and forth, so many times it's a miracle she doesn't wear a hole in the floor..until, finally. It's late. Two in the morning. At least, she'll be pretty sure...Carol texts her, short, sweet. Needed time to think. Sorry Ma. Back home soon. I love you.

She knows she got the text.

It's not much. But Joan is exhausted. Her bruised eye throbs to spite the wine, swollen nearly shut, the pain getting worse as time goes on. She wanders to the kitchen, fills a baggy with ice from the freezer, walks over to sit on the couch and just breathe a moment. Just...just for a moment.

And then there are birds chirping.

Her eyes flutter back open. She'd fallen asleep, laid out on the couch. There's a blanket resting over her shoulders, one that Carol usually sleeps with. On the table a foot away, a glass of water and some aspirin have been set out, while the over half empty wine bottle has vanished. All signs her daughter had indeed come home at some point.

There's no sign of her husband.

She pops the aspirin, downs the water and gets to her feet. It's morning, early. The sun shines outside, bright and beautiful. Birds chirp and flutter about. A squirrel scurries up the large old oak tree out in the front yard, chased merrily by it's mate. A beautiful spring saturday morning. Makes the events of last night seem surreal, distant.

Feeling calm and oddly detatched for the moment, Joan wanders upstairs.

Still no sign of her husband. Their bedroom door is left wide open and the light flooding the room sheds over an empty bed.

Carol's bedroom door is left open too, but only a crack. Joan wanders over and nudges it open, blinking...

The door creaks.

Carol stirs awake, sitting up in bed. "Mm. Ma?"

Joan just stares at her. Something...something here just doesn't feel right. "Carol. When did you get...?"

Her daughter takes a moment to answer, scrubbing a hand over her face sleepily. "Ah. 'round eleven. Erm." The fourteen-year-olds voice is thick with sleep. Almost gruff. "Little after, maybe. You...were sleepin' pretty hard. Didn't seem to hear me."

The wine. Joan doesn't usually drink so much, it probably was enough to put her out pretty hard. "Eleven? I got a text, though. It was..it was later, around two."

Carol just blinks at her, an eyebrow raising - oh Lord, she looks like her father when she does that. Usually the easy comparison would be endearing, but this time...this time the look is a little different. Something about it is extrememly off-putting. "I didn't send any text, Mom."

"But I was sure you...I couldn't have been asleep that long. Where's my..." Giving her daughter no time to respond any further, Joan spins around and darts downstairs frantically. She searches everwhere on the lower floor. The kitchen, the living room, all over the floor, in the couch cushions. Her phone is no where to be found.

After a few minutes, Carol wanders down and sits herself on the bottom steps of the staircase, leaning forward with arms on her knees, eyebrow still raised as she watches her mother. Finally, hungover and sore from the beating her husband gave her and feeling frustrated, Joan comes to stand before her daughter with hands on her hips. "Would you care to give your mother some help?"

"Ah. Actually, if you're finished." Carol answers, sassy, and produces her own cellphone. "Since you never turn the ringer off." She punches a few buttons on the small piece of plastic in her hands.

Joan's favorite ringtone echoes against the walls. Coming from upstairs, if she didn't know any better. She tears past her daughter and up to her bedroom. The phone is set on her nightstand.

She snatches it up just as it stops ringing, and starts scrolling through her text messages. She hasn't recieved any...not since much earlier the previous day.

Not even from Carol.

"You ok, Ma?" Her daughter asks, much gentler now. She's stood in the doorway to the bedroom, arms crossed, looking wary .

"I got..it was two in the morning. I remember. I never would've fallen asleep if I hadn't heard from..from you, I don't..." Joan scrubs a hand through her tangled hair.

Carol's crossed the room, now. Slips an arm over the older woman's shoulders, gently pulls the phone out of her hands. "C'mon, Mom. It's early, you should go back to sleep, let the aspirin kick in. I'll make breakfast, come get yah when it's ready."

"But..but I don't understand. Where's...?"

"You care where he is? After what that bast..." Her daughter's voice...just for a moment it goes harsh again. Gruff, hard and mean, too much to belong to a girl only fourteen years old. And then a moment passes after she catches herself, and she's calm again, gentle. Just Carol. "He's probably passed out on a barroom floor somewhere, it's fine. We'll worry about it later. Sleep, Ma, please, you look like death warmed over." God she sounds...she's only fourteen, she shouldn't be having to sound like this.

But Joans head is pounding something so terrible she doesn't have the strength to argue any further. She allows herself to be led over and tucked into bed.

She's asleep near as soon as her head hits the pillow. When she wakes again some time later, she remembers nothing of seeing her daughter earlier. Her head feels better, as do her bruises, but she feels almost...

The rest of the day is a blur. She only remembers her head feeling as though it's floating detatched from her body.

Her husband never returns, of course.

...

Carol makes the winding trek back through the thick of the forest once. Because she has to be sure in her own head that she hadn't simply been dreaming.

Tierney had known what she was doing. The site is undisturbed. The Earth filling the hole has settled some, in fact, and if no one had found it yet it was highly unlikely now that anyone ever would.

Did I really just get away with...with...?

The thought won't even finish itself.

She leaves, and never visits the sight again.

...

"Carol...you, ah...that, that night...I mean, you didn't...?"

Silence. Carol has to build herself up a bit for it, the way she turns finally and looks her mother in the eye and lies through her teeth. "I never saw him, Ma. I swear to God."

From there on, she'll never quite remember the meaning of the word 'innocent' again.

...

The diner thrives, as does Joan Fletcher. The tragedy sparks rumors, of course. But most wouldn't be surprised if Joan or her quiet, skittish daughter were the ones to do the deed. He was an awful man, that pompous, smooth-talking lawyer with his fancy sports car and expensive suits. The kind of guy that would be more likely to run an old lady over instead of help her across the street. No one had liked him. None mourn in his absence.

It doesn't sit right with Joan; she could never wish anyone dead, but she has a feeling he is dead. And she can't bring herself to believe Carol - her sweet little Munchkin, the same girl that once dragged a fox with a broken leg up out of the woods so she could try to nurse it back to health...that same little girl couldn't possibly have been behind anything. Even if the events of that night were hazy in Joan's memory, no matter how sketchy things seemed. Carol's just fourteen and she...

She's her father's daughter, through and through.

But Joan can't allow herself to think like that. Carol had never even met the man. Certain similarities notwithstanding, Carol couldn't possibly be capable of anything so sinister. It's just not possible.

So Joan keeps her chin up and just moves on. Eventually, the buzz dies down, and life simply moves on with her.

.

The day is a lovely one. The sun shines down bright from a near cloudless sky. The Fletcher mansion is buzzing with activity - the lawns must be manicured, the bushes all pruned, the gardens tended too, as the luncheon guests will be arriving shortly. Inside the lovely brick fortress the kitchens are noisy full with an extended team of assistants for the cook, whose being well made to earn every dollar she's paid on this day. The ballroom, dusty as it has grown from rare use, is being deep cleaned and polished with special attention, though the rest of the homes bottom floor is receiving a similar treatment, of course. Everything must be spotless. The lady of the house would have it no other way, and is well known for firing staff on little more than a whim.

Said lady has just entered the room where Carol has been stood before a mirror, staring blankly at her reflection for some time now.

"Oh my..." The older woman glides across the room, slow and graceful, setting aside a shoe box in favor of eyeing Carol up a moment. "You look..."

Carol braces herself. I look..Short. And stupidly awkward.

"...beautiful, my darling. Absolutely stunning." She adjusts Carol's wild mane of brunette curls a bit, sets them to falling more freely over her shoulders.

Carol lets out the breath she'd been holding. "Thank you, Grandmother."

"Though I suppose the skirt could have been a few inches shorter." But oddly enough there's no malevolence in the older woman's voice as she keeps talking. She's in a good mood for once, it seems. "I do apologize for that, my dear, I should have had you out here to better check the fit a week ago. But ah well. These should help." She picks up the shoe box she'd brought in with her and hands it off.

Carol opens it, and can't help the way a single eyebrow shoots up at it's contents. It's a pair of heals. At least four inches high and pencil thin, colored the same lovely shade of violet as the blouse Carol's wearing. They might help her look less short, but they won't help with the awkward part. Carol hates heals. "Thank you, Grandmother. They're gorgeous." But she smiles pretty and plays nice. Because she'd promised her mother she would.

"You're quite welcome. I've got another pair for later tonight, as well. That dress should fit perfectly. Come now." She coaxes Carol away from the mirror with hands on her shoulders. "I promise, you do look lovely. Our lunch guests should arrive soon and you're the hostess. You should be there to meet them. It is your birthday, after all."

Carol is sixteen today. She can think of many fun things to do in celebration of this. None of them involve forcing herself to make small talk with all the snot-nosed high-society folks she'll be forced to meet today.

None of this even makes sense. Carol's mother is the least favorite of her Grandmother's children, and Carol herself is illegitimate. Her grandmother had generally just taken to pretending Carol didn't exist. Why is she being so generous now, with two lavish parties in one day and a college fund all set up?

But she dares not complain. Keeping the peace always comes first. For the sake of Carol's mother if for no other reason.

So she puts on the heels, and glides down the stairs and out to the gardens. She sits herself daintily at a table, sips cutely from a cup of tea (though she hates tea), refuses most offers of food (though she's starving), and smiles politely (though she likes none of the people she is speaking to).

Just until he comes out of the wood work, and it all becomes crystal clear.

"Carol." Her grandmother calls her over. "Won't you come here, my dear?"

Carol smooths out her skirts a bit, adjusts her hair, takes a breath, and clicks-clacks her way across the brick-work patio to her grandmother's side. "Yes, grandmother?"

"I've got someone I want you to meet. Kelly Montgomery. Kelly, this is my grandaughter, Carol."

Kelly Montgomery is relatively short for a guy, but broad in the shoulders and clearly in quite good shape. He's dressed neat in a finely tailored suit, but wears no tie, and there's a wide brimmed hat atop his head. His blue eyes take in Carol's short but increasingly well-endowed frame with more curiousity than anything else, and a dazzling smile graces his lips. "Carol. It's nice to meet you." He doffs his hat, holding it over his chest, and oh dear sweet Lord but his voice is deep as a double bass and richer than the triple chocolate cake they'll be having at the ball later on. "Your grandmother's previous discriptions of you did you little justice." He continues, oblivious to the fact he's literally melting her like butter.

A strange sensation runs its way down her spine. A shiver. She can feel her cheeks heating up, but manages to choke out a response. "Th-thank you. Uhm, it's a pleasure to - to meet you as well. Though," she glances at her grandmother, a touch sour, "you seem to have been better informed than me."

"Well..."

Her grandmother interjects quickly. "Kelly's mother had told me that he was hesitant to come. My answer to that was that you and he would almost certainly get along famously. Kelly here spends the majority of the year on his father's ranch, helping to tend to it, and I'm told he too plays hockey." Though the old woman still cannot help blanching in distaste at the sound of it. She clears her throat softly to cover it. "Anyway, I thought it might be a pleasant suprise for you, Carol."

What's the catch? There has to be one. Carol will be sure to ask later. For right now... Kelly holds out his arm for her to take. "Would you walk with me?"

Carol takes his arm, offering him her first genuine smile of the day. "I'd love to."

They wander a ways away, meandering a bit. The grounds of the Fletcher estate are large and lovely this time of year, all green bushes and colorful flowers.

Kelly clears his throat softly. "You can relax now. I doubt your grandmother can even see us from here."

Carol lets out a soft giggle, a little nervous. "True. Ah. Sorry. I mean, if I seem...uptight. It's not you, it's just my grandmother..."

Kelly stops beneath the shade of a large old oak tree so they can face eachother, holding up a hand to stop her. "It's alright. I'm about ninety percent sure that my mother arranged this for a reason, though I can't imagine what it is, but I can only assume you're thinking your grandmother's in on it, too."

His tone is a little more informal, so she drops her facade halfway as well. "Yep. Sounds about the just of it. Erm - not that - I mean, you seem -," she blushes, as there are many words that come to mind when thinking of a discription for the young rancher, and none are words she can use when playing the polite and pretty role she is now, "just, it's nothing against you. That's all."

There's a smile playing at his lips, and his eyes sparkle with amusement. "Hey, I get it. Family can be difficult. My Dad's pretty laid back, but my Mom gets all uptight and picky about what girls I bring around. Not that I bring around many." He says the last bit as an afterthought, not deffensive at all, and in fact he's not even looking at Carol anymore. He's looking over her shoulder, reaching out a hand to... Oh. It's a red rose, from one of the bushes artfully planted about the tree. He holds it up. "No thorns. May I?" He gestures to her hair in it's half-updo. She shrugs and tilts her head a bit in consent, and he tucks the rose gently behind her ear, burying it just so in her brunette waves. "Beautiful." He smiles, admiring his handiwork. "Ah, not that you needed any help, of course, Ms. Fletcher."

Carol blushes again. Usually the sound of 'Ms. Fletcher' would send her to scowling - what is this, the eighteen hundreds? - but his kind and gentlemanly manner is so clearly genuine. She smells no lie on him and her animal is preening internally at the attention. "Hey now, you, ah, you don't have to - I mean. Carol is fine."

Now he smiles again, and holds out a hand as if to take hers. She tucks her fingers into the palm of his hand and he lifts them to his lips, brushing a feather light kiss over top of them. "Kelly Montgomery. There. Now we've done the introduction right." He waits until she's caught her breath and taken her hand back, and then offers her his arm again. "We'd better get back around to the party. Don't want someone thinkin' we're foolin' around. You mind if I accompany you for the afternoon?"

Cheeks still flaming, Carol's grinning like an idiot and knows it but she just can't help herself. "I'd like - I mean, I'd love - I mean, yes, please do."

Oh God.

She likes him.

.

They steal time to talk in between Carol performing her duties as hostess. It should prove difficult, but he's so calmly confident that it's easy as could be. He asks her questions, always picking up their conversation as though it had never been interrupted, and they talk about a wide variety of subjects. Even hockey - they both love it and it's the only subject he blushes at - she smells his arousal - the fact she plays it turns him on.

After the much calmer party in the gardens is ended Carol's grandmother is quick to come and whisk her away, as preperations for the nights main event must be started in earnest now.

"Will you be coming?" Carol asks Kelly, hopeful.

Kelly gives a sheepish smile. "I'll be honest, I ah, I wasn't plannin' on it, it'd be hard to find a tux in a hurry, but..."

Carol takes the rose out of her hair and ducks in close to him - too close - the animal picks up his scent - oh God oh God - but she keeps her cool and tucks the rose into the lapel of his blazer, patting it gently. "You must come. Please."

Naturally, he agrees.

.

Oddly enough, her grandmother hadn't cared much what sort of dress Carol wore to the 'ball'. Nothing too low cut in front, nothing backless, generally just nothing sleazy. Those were her only rules. A girl must first and foremost be as comfortable as possible with her own image in the mirror, she had said. It was Carol's mother that had expressed a quiet wish to see her daughter, just once, in a proper princess ball gown.

Carol doesn't often deny her mother anything. But she did this time, and she's glad of it.

Her grandfather had actually helped her pick out the dress she wears. It's nothing too bedazzled. The material is silky, flowing down gracefully to accentuate her curves where they naturallly occur, and the neckline is cowled, swooping down just far enough to be teasing but not scandalous. It's colored a lovely shade of royal blue, with a line of shimmering glitter trailing down each side, and once she puts the matching heels on...

Her grandfather declares her to look grown-up pretty. Like a million bucks, he says.

Her mother tears up at the sight of her.

Her grandmother looks her over with a more scrutinising eye and still declares her to be the 'belle of the ball'.

And then Kelly walks in.

Oh. Oh, God. Oh, that is just not fair, Carol thinks.

He's wearing a tux. He'd said he didn't have one with him but he must've been lying or something becaues it fits him like a glove. Just right. And he just stands there smiling, all broad shoulders and dark hair and...

"Never felt too comfortable in one of these, I gotta be honest with you." He tells her. "Feel kinda ridiculous, actually. I'm really just a simple farmboy, I swear."

Something takes over Carol. Something she doesn't seem to have any control over. "Well, yah could've fooled me, handsome." She doesn't talk like that. Well, no, she does, sometimes, but not here, never with these kinds of people. "I ought to thank yah, actually. It's about time I got some eye candy for myself."

The words seem to leave her lips without her concious permission, and she regrets it internally in an instant. An apology begins to form itself...

But proves unnecessary, because he's grinning now. "Ha! Had a feelin' earlier that you had more fire than you were lettin' on. Sounds like I was right."

"Well, I..." Carol splutters, thrown pretty far off guard.

He holds out his hand for her to take. "Hey. It's a good thing, I promise. C'mon, lets dance, beautiful."

.

"Just eat the cake. It's really good!"

"But my grandmother..."

"It's your birthday, beautiful. Who cares what Grandma thinks?" He's truly bemused.

Carol eats the cake. He's right. It's to die for.

.

"You let the old hag talk to you like that? You're mother lets the old hag talk to you like that?" He's frustrated.

"I-I mean, she's my grandmother. An', well, techinically the company and all the money is hers, so...so it's her rules we gotta play by."

"You gotta learn to speak up, Beautiful. It's only gonna get worse if you don't, trust me. You don't have to be her little clone."

Carol decides she'll continue playing hockey, though her grandmother continues to protest. Her mother is clearly torn, but eventually gives in and agrees.

.

"But I thought she put money away for you to go to college."

"She did." Carol slams a fist against the wall, her frustration getting the better of her. "I knew there had to be a catch. I get it now. It's just another way for her to trap me here. The moneys still under her control, she won't give it to me unless I pick the college she wants and only go for what she wants me to go for. God, she's such a nasty old bitch!" She snarls at no one and kicks a bucket. The horses stir in their stalls feet away, whinnying at the sudden noise.

Kelly gets to his feet and comes to wrap his arms around her. "Take it easy, Beautiful. It's ok. You know all you gotta do is tell her 'no', right?"

Carol thinks for a moment. "But...the money..."

"You got your own way of working up some cash." He points out.

She snorts, turning to look up at him. "I thought you didn't approve?"

"I don't, exactly. But you're your own person. You can do things however you want."

She blows out a breath, resting her head against his chest a minute. "I suppose...you have a point. I don't really need her, do I?"

"Nope. Not really even a little."

When next it comes up, Carol calmly tells her grandmother that she knows exactly where she'll be going after high school, thank you very much, and no she will not be needing any help. Her grandmother is furious, naturally. "You ungrateful brat! I suppose I'll just have to stop sending those cheques to your mother, I'm sure you'll change your tune quick enough then."

Carol smiles. Sweet and polite and ladylike, just like the mean old hag had taught her to. "Oh, but you wouldn't know, would you? You rarely check your own accounts, you've got people for that. And of course you'd never think to come see the diner your daughter's worked so hard to build and get running. You've got more important things to attend to. So you simply wouldn't know that we're doing just fine, and every cent of those last few cheques has gone into a savings account that Mom doesn't touch. Actually, I believe it's the last four cheques. She's getting excited. She thought we might go somewhere on my break from school, just the two of us. Hop the border maybe, Florida sounds fun. We've got passports already."

Her grandmother's face is carefully schooled. Expressionless. Which means she's actually seething. "You stupid, awkward, insolent little brat of a bastard." Her tone is icy cold. "I hope you choke on that awful, greasy slop your mother cooks at that little shithole you call a restaurant. Get out of my sight, then, I'm through with you and glad of it."

In one ear and out the other. Carol barely hears a word of what her grandmother says. She gets to her feet, smooths out her skirt, smiles politely. "Good afternoon, Grandmother. Tell Grandpa to call me, won't you?" And then she glides out of the room, chin up and shoulders back, and that is quite the end of it.

.

"Is - is this what you want?" Kelly asks it quiet, but Carol can hear it in his voice. There's anger there, and a storm brewing behind his eyes. He doesn't sound their age right now. He never really sounds their age. She knows him already, so well. It's been less than a year but they've spent so much time together. So many weekends, little dates where they'd gone horseback riding or hiking. Less than a year, and she really knows him already. "Or did the old hag finally realize I was your new voice of reason?" He plows on. "Don't tell me the only reason for this is that I broke the stupid status quo."

There are tears streaming down Carol's cheeks. No. For once, the answer is no. Her grandmother has nothing to do with this.

Someone had come across the car. The stupid, bright red little douchebag sports car He had driven. The one T had driven straight into the lake they buried Him by. T had been revisiting the sight every now and then to make sure things were still as they should be. She'd called Carol the other day and told her there'd been people digging, though not in the right spot, they hadn't found her stepfather's body.

"I'm just warnin' you so you don't panic," T had assured her, "cause the cops will come to inform yahr Ma and you. Just don't lose your head. There wasn't that much physical evidence linking you to it in the first place, and it's been long enough now there's probably none left at all. If there's any fingerprints left, they'll more likely be mine, but that's unlikely and it's for me to handle besides. You're still in the clear, kid. Just don't lose your head."

And Carol hadn't lost her head. But the problem still remained.

She wasn't ending it with Kelly because of anything her Grandmother had said. In fact, her Grandmother had recently conceded, albeit begrudgingly, that Kelly had been good for Carol. The Fletcher matriarch had actively admitted to the fact that she now had some repsect for Carol because of the backbone Kelly had helped her to grow.

No, no. Carol was ending it because the discovery of her dirty little secret was a reminder. A horrid, ruthless, brutal reminder. There's something inside her. Something - something she can't control. it shows itself now in ways that Kelly finds attractive, but that doesn't mean it's a good thing. Carol really knows it to be a very bad thing.

This is for Kelly's own good. It's that simple. Carol steeles herself. "It's got nothing to do with Grandmother. Don't blame her for this. It's... I'm just... I can't make you understand why. But I don't deserve you."

"Is this about - is this about the other thing you told me?" Realization dawns. He's starting to connect some dots, although she hasn't mapped them all out for him. "About - about the cage fights? Because...listen, Beautiful, I know what's up. There's something I've been letting us dance around, but it's totally my fault, I should've told you..."

She cuts him off, sharp. Forces her voice to sound cold, angry. "You don't know jack shit. You've grown up here. In this little corner of the world that your Daddy personally carved out for you. Where you're left to just live how yah want with two parents who dote on you, hand and foot. Yah're spoiled rotten and yah don't even know it. And yah got no idea what it is to actually be in my shoes. We're done, Kelly, that's it." The anger in his eyes fades away. It's replaced by hurt. Real hurt. Deep. Genuine. She can smell it on him, though she couldn't describe the smell if she tried. She softens some. "I'm sorry. Jesus. I'm sorry, Kelly, I wish...I wish I could explain better but I just can't. You'd hate me even more if I explained better."

"I couldn't." He says, snappy and firm. "I see you. I know you, Carol James Fletcher, and I could not hate you if I tried."

She snorts. "Don't give me that - that chick flick fairytale bullshit. I'm telling you, you would hate me. So just... kiss me one more time. Like you mean it?"

He does. Slow but hungry. Passionate but gentle. Jesus it's all the things those chick flicks suggest it should be and then some and she realizes something then and there. Even if they are just sixteen, what she'd found with Kelly was special.

She pulls away and says nothing more. Just spins on her heal and leaves. She hears him say the words. Her feral ears pick them up easy even as she's already closing the door behind her, and the tone of voice almost suggests he knows they will...

I love you, Carol.

I love you, too. Something inside Carol wants to shout back.

But she was a murderer at fourteen. The result is that she knows something he probably won't fully learn for another several years yet, if even he ever learns it.

Simply put, she already knows that life ain't a fairytale.


	2. Just the Beginning 2

"...Carol James Fletcher! Front and center, I want you too look at me this time." The diner's owner calls out, tone scolding, as Carol enters.

The seventeen-year-old winces. "Hey, Ma." She answers, gruffer than she means to, dipping her head as she passes the older woman up, ignoring the instructions entirely as she heads off across the dining room.

"Oh no, you don't get off that easy." Her mother chases after her. "You're late. Again."

"I know, Ma." Carol answers as she slips back into the kitchens to grab an apron. "I'm sorry, I was just..."

"Just what? You're always late this summer, at least three times a week and you'll never tell me, just what?" Her mother corners her, hands planted firmly on slender hips.

"I'm just sorry, alright?" Carol answers, huffing. "Look, if I'm late already don't you just want me to get to work?"

"Hey, Joanie!" The cook yells from further back in the kitchens. "Trucks comin' tonight, Jim's askin' if you'll come help make room in the freezers!"

Carol raises a triumphant eyebrow at this; she's just been saved the trouble of an even healthier scolding.

"Discussions not over." Joan says, all business, bringing a finger up to point at her daughter for emphasis even as she heads back towards the freezers.

"Yeah, yeah." Carol grumbles, only because the older woman can't hear her now. "Three times a week. Every week. You ain't figured anything out, old woman, it's your fault for bein' so..." She huffs as she slips back out to the dining room, now toting a bucket to collect dirty dishes and smiling bright as the sun as she greets customers.

Anyway, her mother will have forgotten about it by closing time. She always does.

...

"Hey, you sure you don't want a ride?" Carol asks, eyebrow raising as she watches the one remaining waitress check her keys to make sure her pepper spray is still on them. There's is a small and fairly innocent town, but it's past midnight, and one never knows what could be lurking. Carol knows that better even than she should.

The girl smiles, but shakes her head. "Not even worth yahr trouble, Ah'm just across town, it's not even a mile." Her accent is American-southern, thick and syrupy. Carol thinks it's about the only thing authentic about the woman.

"...which just means it wouldn't be any trouble for us to give yah a ride, anyway." Carol points out, as though this should be obvious. Because it should.

"Ah'll be fine." The waitress answers, a little more firm. "But thanks for the concern, hon."

Carol just shrugs as the woman disappears out the door. Something's off about her. Carol can't pinpoint what it is, but it sets her on edge.

A few brief moments of blissful silence are afforded her, until her mother slips out from being back in the kitchens. "Alright. I think that's everything." The older woman pauses a moment, as though going down a mental checklist. "I think. Dish area was closed down...I know I turned off the oven and the fryers, and the griddle wasn't hot anymore."

"So nothin's burning down tonight. Time to go, then?" Carol asks, hopeful. Chomping at the bit, really. It's Friday. The sooner she can urge her mother home, the sooner the older woman will get through her usual nightly routines and go to bed.

"Yes, yes, it's time to go. Come on. You know, most girls your age wouldn't be so excited to be leaving work on a Friday night if they were only going home. I wonder about you sometimes these days."

"Eh." Carol just shrugs as she slips out the door after her mother. "A girl needs her beauty sleep."

.

It's Friday. It's Friday, it's Friday, it's Friday...

She can relax some on Friday nights. Because she can sleep in Saturday and her mother won't even question it.

She listens. Waits, patient as she can manage to be. Her mother spends some time shuffling around downstairs. Doing dishes, fixing herself a cup of tea, watching television. An hour or so is all it really takes, but Carol's so ready...

Her mother climbs the steps. Calls out in her pleasant, church-bell voice 'goodnight, Munchkin. Love you.'.

"You too, Ma, night." Carol calls back and then counts to herself. "3. 2. 1." Her mother's door shuts.

Quietly, Carol starts getting ready. Boys blue jeans, just the comfiest level of oversized. White tank top beneath basic blue flannel. Hair shoved up into a braid, haphazard, just an effort to keep the unruly brunette mane from getting in her way. Black lace up boots, combat style. She takes her time, pads around making not a sound. Waits long enough...

She opens her door slow, peers out into the hall, inspects her mother's door and listens with bated breath...

There's no light emenating from the crack beneath the door, and she can hear the distinct white-noise sound of the oscillating fan her mother always turns on. Yep. The old woman is finally asleep. Carol slips back over to her closet, removes the old jean jacket hidden in the back, and slips it on as she darts out of the room and down the stairs.

Her mother leaves the job, in it's entirety, of running the diner up to her favorite manager on Saturdays. So, it'll be at least 10 a.m. before the older woman graces the world with her presence again. Carol's free as a bird as long as she makes it home before then.

Her pickup roars to life with it's usual vigor, but the noise of it, Carol had long since noted, is mostly contained to the garage. Her mother won't hear it, not with her fan going. Carol backs out, careful not to revv the engine too much until she hits the road. And then she floors it heading up that road - up the hills and further away from town.

The drive is about an hour. It's worth it every time.

The warehouse she pulls up to is massive. Built, at one time, to store weapons. Big weapons. Or, so the sTori goes. No one really knows anymore what it's original purpose was. These days...well.

Carol parks her truck and glances around as she starts heading for the entrance. There's a whole gang of bikers parked not far down from her; they don't pay her any attention at all. Past them there's a couple big boys just getting out of their truck; one eyes Carol up as she passes, lust clear in the look. Stocky as she's grown to be already, and even in the baggiest clothes that she can get her hands on, it isn't difficult to tell she's a girl. She only sends him a smirk. She's not afraid.

She's learned by now. Size isn't important when you can do what she can. In fact, she's learned to enjoy schooling others in this. Thoroughly.

"Alright, I'm sure you know the drill, need some I.D. and..." The bouncer guarding the entrance of The Warehouse stops short when he actually lays eyes on Carol. "Jamie."

"Hey, Hunter."

"Damn. What's it been, two weeks? I was startin' to wonder if we'd ever see you again."

She'd been on 'vacation' with her mother. Which is to say, her mother had wanted to go see Carol's aunt and hadn't given Carol any say in the matter. "Come on," she answers Hunter, smirking, "you couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

"Hell. Who's tryin'?" He answers back, wiggling his eyebrows. He stamps her hand with the symbol that passes her as of age, even though she isn't quite yet. "Go on in. An' hey, any chance I'll, ah, see you later?"

"I knew yah'd miss me." That, and a wink is the only answer she gives him. It's entirely possible she'll find herself in the mood for what he's offering later, if she thinks she can risk it time-wise. But tonight she's got a much more prominent itch that's just begging to be scratched.

The crowd tonight isn't too disappointing, but she's seen it on better nights. She makes it up to the bar with ease and flags down the bartender. The girl behind the counter recognizes her as easily as Hunter had, and doesn't wait for Carol to say anything further - she lays down a beer and a clipboard with a list of names. Carol adds 'Jamie F.' onto the end of it, tosses it back to the girl. Snatches up her beer, turns around, and starts sizing up the crowd surrounding her.

Now all she has to do is sit and wait and watch the others already in the cages set up. Sweet release is just a few minutes away.

She downs her beer pretty quick and flags a girl down for another. It does her little good, she know she won't get drunk this way, but it helps her blend in.

She's not the only woman around. She never is. Bar flies swarm this place, some of them little older than Carol, some of them twenty years her senior. All dressed provacative. Some tend the bar, other's dart about the rest of the warehouse floor with clipboards similar to the one Carol had been handed. Some flirt with the men crowding the cages and preparing to step inside them, offering an entirely different brand of entertainment - probably for a price. And they have plenty of customers. Money changes hands fast here.

Carol remembers coming here for the first time, four years ago. At only thirteen, she'd been a good few inches shorter than she is even now, and though she'd had a strength far disproprtionate to her awkward and heavily under developed body, her skill had been somewhat lacking, and she'd known it just by watching the guys stepping into the cages. But Hunter, he'd snatched her up and taken her to his brother, who began teaching her.

She learned fast. Almost as though she was made for this. By the time she hit her fourteenth birthday, he declared her ready. She lost twice in the beginning, and hadn't lost at all since.

Usually, she'd be working it out about now, whether she wanted to make her fights quick and clean or whether she wanted to put on a show for her audience. She's gained a bit of a reputation by now, and is well aware of this. But tonight...tonight she's in no mood for any extra showmanship. After spending two weeks cooped up with her snooty cousins and bobble-headed aunt... something inside her head is pacing restlessly in the cage she shoves it in. It won't keep contained forever. This is the safest place for her to let it out.

"Oh shhhit." The words spat out in a woman's oddly familiar voice, and before Jamie can do or say anything she's being doused with a healthy dose of the same cheap beer she's been drinking.

Ugh. It's in her hair. "Hey!" She near growls. "Watch where yahr goin', you..." The last word dies on her lips as she looks up to see who the culprit is. The room is crowded, the lights are dim, and there's too many foreign and vaguely unpleasant scents assaulting Carol's sensitive nose for her to pick out one from another, but she's almost positive the woman standing before her with a now empty tray in hand is the new waitress her mother had hired for the diner.

Her hair is down for once. Long dark waves fall with a streak of stark white to either side, and she seems a little less fake this way.

Recognition dawns behind the woman's eyes. She doesn't look scared or worried or apologetic. She looks like she's processing. "Sorry, hon." She says. "Slipped. Easy to do with so many people around. But, hey. Good luck up there." She nods towards the nearest cage, and darts back off to get lost in the crowd.

Warning bells start going off somewhere in Carol's mind, but...but...what even just happened? She doesn't understand, and before she can start to try and figure it out, her attention is drawn back to the fight she's supposed to be waiting for.

"Listen up here, guys and gals. We got a treat for you tonight!" An announcer with a loud speaker - Hunter's brother, actually - places himself in the largest cage, the one right in the center of the room. "Our undefeated guest here," he gestures towards the man leaning against one wall of the cage, "has requested his next opponent be none other than... Wild Thing!" The crowd erupts into cheers, forcing him to pause a moment. "Who! Who, I'm told, has just arrived and has yet to face anyone. So where's my girl at?"

Carol begins shoving her way through the crowd, trying to forget about the strange woman and eyeing up her challenger as she catches glimpses of him. He's tall and beefy, all muscles and tribal tattoos and an oddly contentious mohawk. Somethings different about him. Something...his eyes. She meets them for a brief moment, and she thinks she sees... Are they reflecting gold in the overhead lights?

Gold. The same wolf-like yellow that hers fleck with when she gets worked up.

Well. This might prove to be fun.

She shucks her jacket and the flannel shirt, tossing them to one of the girls that mills around the cage to serve just such a purpose. Smirks as she steps up and greets Hunter's brother.

"Here she is, here she is! Hellooo beautiful." He shouts to the crowd, playful, as he throws an arm around her, leaning in close enough to murmur to her. "This guys been here kickin' ass since we got things started for the night hours ago and he ain't slowin' down. Watch that pretty little ass of yours, gorgeous, this ones dangerous."

"My pretty little ass is in just the right kind of mood to kick his for thinkin' to challenge me." She winks back, cocky. "I got this."

The announcer shrugs and brings the speaker back up. "Alright then! Now just to be sure we all know the rules of the big ring here, three rounds won's a match, KO's only require a count of five - space it out, folks, lets be fair -, aaand," he gestures to a string hanging down above his head - it trails up to a large old church bell that's hung down from the ceiling, "three rings is a tap out! Other than that, well, anything goes! It's show time!"

The crowd erupts into more cheers. Left alone now in the cage with her challenger, Carol rolls her shoulders a bit, ready for whatever he's about to throw at her.

Her opponent tilst his head, watching her. "Funny, I wasn't expecting you to be a girl. And just a kid, too. You don't look like much."

"Famous last words." She fires back.

"You think you'll beat me?"

"I think there's a damn good chance you ain't never gone against someone like me before."

"Oh, I'm counting on it." He takes a fighting stance. "Don't expect I'll go easy on you."

"Let's just do this, asshole." She dips into her own fighting stance, fists up.

He throws a punch, aiming a little high, clearly unused to fighting an opponent who's so small. She dodges with ease and responds with a fist aimed at his ribs, not using her full strength yet, just testing him. His response is automatic; he blocks the hit with ease, dancing out of the way. He's fast. For a moment they just circle the cage, each deciding what move they want to make next.

He darts forward first, his fist aimed lower this time, the move calculated. He's fast. She dodges, though, sweeps to the left and uses the momentum to send her own fist flying towards his ribs. She hits home this time. He staggers to the side, swings around, and clocks her in the jaw.

Damn.

They circle eachother some more, thinking again now that each has an idea of what the other can do. Finally, he darts forward again, and Carol's not playing anymore. She dips down just at the last moment, sweeps a leg around to cut his out from under him, hauls back as his knees hit the floor, and swings her fist around to fly into his cheek. He's fast. But she's small, and always faster.

He hits the wall of the cage hard enough to be staggered, and the first round goes to her.

He drags himself to his feet. "Not bad for a runt." He grunts, cracking his neck.

Her eyes narrow as she wipes a drop of blood from a split lip that's just healing. Runt? "Oh, you ain't seen anythin' yet."

And then the fight really begins.

Punches, kicks, he even pulls at her hair once or twice just to try and immobilize her. The longer it's drawn out, the more angry she finds herself becoming. No one keeps up this long against her. No one. She can smell the anger growing on him too. The same feral rage, though when she meets his eyes she sees satisfaction. He's enjoying this on some level.

Truthfully, she is too.

They go back and forth for a while. He wins the second round, and the third. Then she wins again, and now their down to the wire. Time to pull all the stops. She'd seen the fights in the big ring get pretty brutal - no one was kidding when they said 'anything goes'. And by now the bets being passed around the crowd around them will have skyrocketed, which means the amount put in her pocket will have done the same - and her truck needs new tires. So she doesn't hesitate. They're both beginning to tire, but as tiny as she is, she can still move faster. As soon as the announcer calls for the last round to start, she flies forward and throws all of her weight into slamming him back against the wall of the cage. He swings a fist wildly, catching her in the jaw again, enough to daze her some, but she gives him no quarter. She hauls back and lets loose a feral snarl as she sends her fist flying into his stomach, hopefully knocking the wind out of him. It works. He goes half limp. She lets him go and watches as his knees give out and hit the floor again. Gasping to catch his breath, he looks up at her with eyes flushed more gold than hazel, now.

Hazel. His eyes are the same exact color as hers.

This realization couples with another and gives her pause. He scent. Something about his scent is...just, different. Wild in such a way that it almost seems more animal than human, which is why she can pick it out above anything else she's smelling.

Coughing and gasping for breath, he meets her eyes. "Come on, then, half pint. Finish it."

Ugh. Half pint. Well, now he definitely deserves it.

She throws one last punch, an uppercut, slamming his head back. He collapses entirely and the crowd tears into the count down with no hesitation, then erupts into raucous cheers, shouting 'Wild Thing, Wild Thing' as she throws a fist up into the air. Just because of her opponents last comment, she snatches the speaker from the announcer as he enters the cage. Makes a show of glancing back at her opponent, eyebrow raised as she rolls her shoulders again. "So, ah. Who's next?"

The crowd erupts again, and Carol just smirks.

...

The beast is more than satiated. The chunk of change she'd just earned is satisfying enough, and she still has at least three hours before she needs to be home for the night.

Naturally, she wanders off to find Hunter.

"Well hello, beautiful. Caught a few glimpses of you up there in the big ring. I was like, damn, that's my girl."

"Eh, I do what I can." She winks. "You still up for, ah..." She looks him over, shimmying her shoulders suggestively.

"Back of my new truck is covered." He answers. "So, hell yeah I am."

Incidentally, this only takes up another twenty minutes, maybe. Not that she's complaining. Any longer and they'd start to be bothered by the cold, anyway.

"I gotta get back over there, they'll be wonderin' where I went."

She pulls him back to devour his lips one last time, nipping at them so they'll be reddened, and scrubbing her hands through his sandy blond hair to make sure it's good and mussed up. "This way, they'll know, eh?" She grins wolfishly as she gets his hair just right. Undoes one of the buttons on the shirt he'd just put back on while he swats at her hands playfully. "There you go."

"They'll know it was you, is what they'll know." He rolls his eyes.

She shrugs. "I seem like the kinda girl who gives a shit?" She presses one last kiss to his cheek and flashes him a wolfish grin before jumping out of the truck and...

Stops short, sniffing the air. She smells him before she sees him. Turns around slow, and there he is, leaned against the truck casually, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Clearly, you aren't." He answers the question she'd directed at Hunter.

Hunter climbs out behind her before she can answer. "Oh." He blinks at the large figure leaned against his truck. "Erm. Somethin' you needed, pal?"

"Just a chat with the little princess here. Alone."

Hunter's jaw sets. "Jamie?"

"I'll be fine." She answers, gruff.

"I'll just, ah, have my smoke over here, then." He hands her a cigarette from his pack and wanders off a few paces, only just far enough. If she yells, he'll hear. She appreciates this, although she has a feeling he'll be little help if she's found trouble.

"So who the hell are you, anyway?" She asks, stalking forward a few steps to face the tall man. "I'd remember a face like yours if I'd seen it before." She lights her smoke.

"I'm just passing through." He answers, calm. Clearly unbothered by her hostile tone. "Heard your name start to come up, thought maybe I'd found myself a worthy opponent."

He's good. There's no physical way to tell he's lying, at least none that she can see, but there's just the faintest hint of nervousness in his scent. She's yet to meet anyone who can lie without at least a trace of apprehension making itself known in some form. She takes a drag from her cigarette, blows smoke at him as she replies. "Wrong answer. Try that again, and I walk."

A smirk tugs his lips upwards. He holds his hands up in surrender, placating. "Ha. Your a real pistol, aren't yah? I just wanted to be good n' sure I was right. But if you can sniff out a lie like that, there's no question." He looks her over. Something behind his eyes shifts, changes. Softens, just a fraction. "Damn. See now me, I'm not all that much like him actually. Got lucky. My mama's boy, through and through. But you...you're his spittin' image. I'm just trying to wrap my head around it. Easy now, princess," he sobers some, clearly sensing her growing tension, "I'm no threat to you."

"Call me princess one more time and I'll break your nose." She says, decidedly not in the mood to play games. "What do you want?"

"You already did break my nose. Don't tell me you didn't hear that. Hurt like hell, by the way. All healed now, though, so no hard feelin's I guess." He shrugs, flippant. Looks her over. "I can't help but notice, you don't seem to be too much the worse for wear either. Had enough energy left to come all the way out here and knock boots with the bouncer, that's something. Oh, right. Sorry again. I haven't answered any of your questions. What I want, who I am, it's all tied together, but I'm not sure you'll believe me too well if I give it all to you now, you understand."

He heals like her. He's got senses like her. He can fight like her. "Don't seem like you got much to lose, just try me."

He shakes his head. "No. Not now. I want you to sleep on this first, but I do need to warn you. There's someone up this way that's lookin' for you. Someone that's known for being trouble."

"I can take care of myself."

"I saw and felt that, Princess, but it's hard to guard against something if you don't know it's comin' in the first place. This guy, he's like us. Just like us. So I'm your warning. Watch your back, and I'll come find you again soon."

Fair enough, Carol supposes. She nods once, and watches as her new 'friend' walks off to disappear back inside the Warehouse.

"Sooo...the hell was that about?" Hunter comes up to ask her.

"Don't know." She shrugs. "But somethin' tells me I'd better get home."A few days worth of business-as-usual pass, but Carol isn't stupid. She knows better than to forget the strange encounter. In fact, it puts her increasingly on edge. The fact that nothing of interest is happening around her...she feels like she's waiting out the calm before the storm. She just doesn't know the nature of the storm yet.

Incidentally, the waitress at the diner - Anna - doesn't miss a beat when next she sees Carol. It's as if nothing happened, save for the way she eyes Carol up as if she knows...

...

"Oh, it's such a lovely day - you know what sweetheart, I'm glad I left Danny to close up the diner tonight." Her mother's chiming voice calls from the kitchen.

Carol peers out the window and is greeted by the sight of a sky turning all the prettiest shades of pink and orange. "So am I." She answers, meaning it. "You work too much, Ma."

"What can I say? That diner was my dream when I was your age, even. Stews about ready, how about you get us some bowls and plates and we'll eat outside?"

Carol shuffles into the kitchen and sets about the task happily, placing a kiss on her mother's cheek as she goes.

Sometimes she kind of hates her life. And then there are nights where her mother actually acts normal.

The evening is peaceful calm. There's a breeze, but it's barely strong enough to rustle the grass. Carol sets the table on the patio up for dinner and then pauses a moment, breathing in deep and enjoying the...

Breathing in deep again.

She's imagining it. Or..or it's just an animal. They get cougars up here, on occasion, that's kind of what it smells like, a big cat. But they never wander this close to the house and the breeze isn't strong enough to carry a scent too far...

The breeze picks up again just for a moment, and when she sniffs the air again, the scent has vanished.

"Carol?" Her mother's slips out of the house with a bowl full of cornbread muffins and butter to put on them.

Wild Thing takes over. Pause a minute, ignore the old woman a moment longer, try to reach out with her senses, try to...it smelled like a cougar, but not. The guy in the cage days ago, he'd smelled like an animal, but not. Just like Tierney does, too. The not-a-cougar is gone now but...but...

"Honey, what's wrong?" Her mother's tone turns a little more urgent.

Carol hadn't realized she'd stepped down off the patio. She's down in the grass now, tensed, poised as if she's in the cage readying for a fight, and it's startling. Instinct had taken over without her giving it permission.

It could have been a cougar. But somewhere in her gut Carol knows that's not the scent she'd picked up.

"Nothing." She forces herself to relax. There's not a lot she can do about it now and if she rushes her mother back inside she'll just stress the older woman out over what's possibly nothing. On top of that, if someones watching, and that's a big if, it won't do any good just now to let them know she knows. So she heads back up the steps just behind her, joining her mother at the table. "Just..thought I heard something."

...

And then she smells it again.

It's Saturday and she and her mother are just leaving for a half shift at the diner. (Her mother's favorite manager got sick, and Carol hasn't wanted to leave the older woman's side.) It's been a warm but blustery summer day, and Carol stops to tie back her wild mane of brunette waves, and just as she lifts her hands to her head she stops dead in her tracks.

The wind carries the scent better. It's stronger. Wild Thing knows that it's not a cougar.

"Carol?" Her mother calls, already at the car, worry etched on her face now and making shallow frown lines cut deeper.

"You know what, I'm..I'm getting a headache." It's not a very good lie. Carol doesn't get headaches. Carol doesn't get sick, period, hasn't since she was about twelve, though she's carefully faked it few times for the sake of appearance.

"A headache?" Her mother skirts back around her car, reaching out to feel Carol's forehead. "You don't feel feverish. Is your stomach sick?"

"No. I'm ok, Ma." She snatches up her mother's hand and squeezes lightly. "I just, I'm gonna go lie down. I'll come out to the diner a little later, see if you need the help."

"Oh. Well. You're sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, Ma, I'm sure."

The older woman looks skeptical, like she's debating with herself, but someone has to go and run things at the diner and Joan hates to have to call in anyone else on Saturdays. "Well, ok. Go lay down and then I want you to call me when you wake up."

"I will, Ma. Get going so Phil can go home."

The older woman leaves. Carol watches her go and blows out a breath once the older woman's car is out of sight. With her mother out of the way, she's got less to be worried about.

The wind picks up again. Carol breathes in deep, but only picks up the barest hint of that odd scent this time. "Ok." She mutters, eyes scanning the trees surrounding her house. And then, louder, almost shouting, "Whoever the fuck you are, why don't you just bring it on already!"

No response, of course.

Carol shuffles back inside. Plops herself in the living room, on the couch, television playing some kind of random nature show with the volume on low. Gets to her feet, paces the room. Opens a window. Gets no hint of the scent on the breeze this time. Sits back on the couch.

This goes on for over two hours.

Carol's nerves are just about fried.

And then there's a knock at the front door.

Already on her feet, Carol's fists clench. Her knuckles start to itching something feirce and a low growl rumbles up her throat, the noise barely human. Someones been toying with her for weeks. If they have the nerve to walk right up to her front door now, she won't bother with any niceties herself. She stomps up to the front door, takes the handle in a fist that's trembling with rage and apprehension, and yanks open the door with a snarl already parting her lips.

"Oh - ah, hello." It's a woman. Grown, maybe, but not too much older than Carol. She offers up a hesitant, sheepish smile. "I'm - I'm really sorry to bother you, it's just that my cars got a flat, I'm supposing the leak was a slow one, I'm stuck just up the road here and I'm already using my spare and of course my phones not getting service. Do you have a phone I could use?"

Carol stares at her a moment, hazel eyes wide and wild and quite possibly still flushed a bit with gold, though the stranger doesn't seem to notice. After a moment, she blows out a breath and her thoughts manage to catch up with her. "Phone. Erm. Yeah. Yeah, we've... I've got my cell, it'll work. Hold on." She closes the door halfway and darts into the living room to grab her cellphone, then wanders back over to hand it to the girl on her front porch. "Here yah go. Got someone you can call? I can, ah, get you the number for a tow truck if yah need it."

"Oh, no, I've got a number, thank you. I'll just be a moment."

Carol leaves her to it, wanders back into the house, rakes her still trembling hands through her hair and tries to calm herself down. She feels like she's losing her mind.

Her ears pick up on the woman's conversation, just enough to hear that she sounds distressed. Just frustrated, maybe? Ending up with a flat when you're already rolling on a spare would do that to you. Doubly so if it happened only for you to realize your phone wasn't working. There's a knock at the door. Probably just the other woman giving Carol back her phone. Feeling a little calmer now, Carol opens the door with the intention of apologizing...

And staggers back, eyes going wide as her stomach drops. "Holy shit, oh no..."

The woman is splayed out on the porch, Carol's cell still in hand. There's blood pooling beneath the poor thing. The source of it seems, mainly, to be the young woman's neck, which has been clawed open viciously. In fact, if Carol didn't know better, she'd say at first glance that it was the work of a wild cat. But Wild Thing knows better. Her fists clench as her eyes flush almost completely with gold, and she steps carefully over the broken body and out into the front yard. "Bastard!" She snarls the word, knowing that whoever just committed the crime will certainly hear her. "You got some kinda fight to pick, pick it with me, damnit!" She glances back at the dead woman and rakes a hand through her hair again. Oh God oh God oh God oh...

So much blood. The air reeks of it.

Carol collapses as a wave of nausea hits her hard enough to weaken her knees. What little is in her stomach feels quite close to emptying out into the grass before her; she's stuck like this for several moments, unable to catch her breath.

Grass rustles. A twig snaps. Carol catches that scent again, stronger than ever. Not a cougar. Not just a man. Something kind of oddly in between, like Carol herself. All at once, she remembers herself. The nausea clears. Anger takes hold, hot and raw. That itch in her knuckles starts back up and quickly grows impossible to resist; razor sharp spikes shoot out, two from each hand, long and strong enough to cut through metal. She staggers to her feet. "Come on! Face me!"

Something lands in the grass just behind her.

Lands. As in, fell from higher ground, probably the roof of the house. Carol hears the thump, feels the woosh of air being displaced. Taking in a final deep breath and letting it out slow and shaky, she turns around.

Oh shit. It's a he. And he's massive. Probably standing at well over six feet, he must weigh at least two of Carol. "Are-are you going to kill me?" She asks, tears welling up and spilling over without her persmission. She can't fight this. She'll try, but there's no way she'll win. Even being as fast as she is, he'll get one blow in and she'll be down for the count, and then who knows what he'll do with her.

He tilts his head at her, letter-perfect like a cat eyeing up it's dinner. "Kill you?" He rumbles, his voice a deep half-growl of a rumbling baritone. "Now just what is it your brother fed yah, anyhow? Why would yah think I want to kill you?"

Carol shakes her head. "You - you tore her up." Gesturing to what's left of the poor woman who just wanted to call up a ride home. "I doubt she deserved it."

A smirk plays at his lips, though his eyes remain calculating as he studies her. "Been tryin' for weeks to get yah good and worked up. Figured, if this didn't get your attention..."

Anger. Carol feels the reaction physically; feels the affect of her veins flushing with a fresh dose of adrenaline. Her heart rate speeds up and her control starts to slip as Wild Thing howls with rage. "You'd kill someone just...just..."

"Oooh." His smirk grows; one sharp fang peeks out from beneath his lips. "Look at those eyes. You're a pretty little one."

"What do you want from me?"

"Oh, nothing you'll be too likely to give me just yet, sounds like. Guess we're gonna have ta do this the hard way. " He lifts a hand and Carol's eyes zero in on the claws that a grow outward.

Coherent thought leaves her entirely. Wild Thing takes over at the issued threat and charges the massive feral. His smirk turns to a fang-baring grin; he takes her by the shoulders, stops her in her tracks and tosses her like the rag doll she is to him. She flies forward and straight into the house - through the large bay window dominating the one wall of the living room.

Normally a fall like this might've slowed her down. As it is, she pays no heed to the cuts scattered over her body, or the wrist she sprained trying to stop her momentum. She pulls out the largest shard of glass embedded in her wrist and backs away slow as her opponent jumps into the house through the window.

She just needs a minute...just long enough for the cuts to heal.

"Feisty little cub." He looks her over. "Even for a runt I'm bettin' you can do better than that, too." He keeps talking as he chases her across the living room, slow and predatory. "Wonder if that's why Jimmy left yah. Too small. Wouldn't have been much his style when last I talked to him but, ah, he and I ain't exactly on speakin' terms anymore."

The minute the last piece of glass dislodges itself from her fast-healing skin, she picks up the nearest object she thinks might do some damage, hauls back, and hits him with it as hard as she can. It's the coffee table she'd been standing next to. Made of glass and solid metal. She hits him with it so hard, it shatters over his head.

He's staggered, of course.

She flies forward, claws out again, and embeds them in his stomach as he's doubled over. Uses them and her momentum, lifts him as best she can considering how much he weighs, and tosses him into the television - which is sitting on a set that's also made of glass. Which, in turn, also shatters.

Breathing heavy, Wild Thing then staggers back to just watch him as her body finally heals her wounds the rest of the way.

He groans. Which is satisfying. But then he chokes out a laugh, and she abruptly remembers what the man who apparently is her brother had warned her about.

He's like us. Just like us.

Her opponent gets back to his feet, moving slow but clearly not too much the worse for wear. "Damn. You're Jimmy's girl alright." He cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders. Stalks towards her.

Wild Thing stands her ground, unsure of what to do. Can she wear him down? Or should she just run? He's a feral mutant, stronger than her. It's possible she can't wear him down, but then if she runs, it's also possible there's nowhere she can go that he won't track her down again.

"What do you want from me?" She asks again, more desperate this time.

"What I want is to make sure Jimmy doesn't get his claws inta you. Put all of his funny ideas into that pretty head of yours."

"Who the hells Jimmy? My father?" That would make sense, she realizes hazily. Why else would her mother have named her Carol James? "My Ma ain't even mentioned his name before, I don't know him, you got nothin' to worry about - about..."

He starts stalking towards her again, shaking his head. "Now your brother knows about you. No way Jimmy won't get to yah, eventually. You're comin' with me."

Carol backs up until she hits the dining room table. Tries to scramble around it, trips over a chair, falls on her ass and...

"Carol?" Her mother's voice rings out, loud and panicked. "My God..." Footsteps sound on hardwood as her mother sprints into the house, and then comes to a dead stop. "No." The words choked out now, and barely. "Vic-Victor, no, not her. She's not...she's not like him. It's been..I'd know by now if..."

The massive feral, Victor, turns slow to face Carol's mother. "Not like him?" He chuckles. Glances back at Carol with an eyebrow raised. Faces her mother again, outright guffawing now. "You mean she ain't told you?" He continues laughing, seeming genuinely tickled. "Oh, that's good. You'll have plenty to talk about, then."

"Mom." Carol calls. "Mom, just...run!" The screech makes it past her lips just as Victor lunges for her mother. Chaos ensues. Her mother dodges, darts into the living room and snatches up a shard of all the shattered glass, turning to face Victor with an impressively little amount of fear. Carol scrambles back to her feet, still screeching at her mother to run, claws once again extended. And then, from somewhere far outside it all, a massively loud bang reverberates into the house and through the trees surrounding it, making birds scatter with a frantic flutter of wings.

Carol and her mother both stop dead as Victor is thrown back to hit the wall several feet away, a rather large hole blasted straight through his stomach.

Carol takes a moment to stare blankly at Victor, until her thoughts catch back up with her. And then she's stalking over to the window, claws still out, letting herself keep riding the adrenaline rush, ready to face down whoever the hell just brought such a powerful shotgun to the party.

"Carol." Her mother murmurs shakily. "Carol James...what in the hell?"

Carol glances back at her mother and isn't suprised to find the older woman is staring down at Carol's claws. She doesn't have time to be worried about that though. "Stay here, Ma." She says, voice low and gruffer than usual. She jumps through the window, landing quietly on the front porch, skulks forward slowly...

"Look at you, half pint. Alive and kickin' after facin' Sabretooth one on one, that's impressive, I gotta admit." It's the guy she'd faced in the Big Ring at the Warehouse weeks earlier. Her brother. He's standing calmly in the middle of her front yard, leaning casually against a tree with a large double barreled shot gun hanging down from one hand.

She tilts her head at him. "...the hell did you come from?"

"Never never land." He replies, voice dripping with sarcasm. A smirk plays at his lips. "I know I was a little late to the party, but ah," he holds up the gun, eyebrow raised, "I just wasted one 12 guage shell full of pure adamantium shot puttin' his sorry hide down for the count. You're welcome, Princess."

Laughter escapes her lips, incredulous and maybe slightly hysteric. "Right. Thanks. Uhm..how, how long will he...?"

"Eh. A while. Old man doesn't heal as fast as he used to, and that adamantium will tear you up good no matter how well you heal. We'd better get a move on all the same. We can take my car or you can grab your truck and follow me. Assuming your fit to drive."

She needs a minute. She can't think, can't...her hands tremble violently as she rakes them through her hair and tries not to let her eyes fall on the woman still laying bloodied and very dead on her front porch.

No time, there's just no time.

"I ain't leavin' my truck. I'll..just, let me get my Ma."

He nods. "Hurry. Oh. Names Jack, by the way."

"Jack. Ah. Do me a favor and..don't go anywhere with that bad boy just yet." She nods at the shotgun.

He smirks as he brings it up to pat it almost affectionately. "Don't worry, Sister. I got your back now."


	3. Just the Beginning 3

**_Sorry for the shorter chapter, didn't have a better place to end this one without making it entirely too long. Thanks for reading!_**

 ** _._**

Hours later, already miles away from home and held up at a sketchy truck stop, Carol fidgets uncomfortably under her mother's peircing gaze. It's one in the morning, and they're at a greasy spoon diner waiting to be served up breakfast because Carol won't last much longer without some sustenance. Sometimes she hates her stupidly fast metabolism.

"How long?" The older woman asks, finally breaking a long and tense silence. "How long have you...that is to say, when did you first realize?"

The animal is pacing closer to the surface of her mind that she usually lets it. With good reason, granted, but that makes this all the harder. Carol needs to be up and moving and taking some kind of action. She feels as though she can't do this with her mother now, and yet... "Since - since, uhm, since I was about twelve. I mean... I started showing signs at eleven I think but I didn't understand yet then. I was almost thirteen when I, uhm, when I realized..."

"Realized what you are." Her mother finishes for her. The older woman is upset, most certainly, Carol can sense that. Joan Fletcher reeks of anger and fried nerves, a potent combination at the best of times, let alone the worst.

"Mutant." Carol spits the word out. Not because she hates it or mutants but because she's terrified terrified terrified that her mother won't be able to cope with it. "I'm..I'm..I'm a first class freak is what I am."

Anger overpowers her mother's sent. Wait, no, not just anger. Rage. Pure, intense, potent as hell. "You think I...?" The cold fury is reflected in her voice.

Carol's first instinct, always, is to be on the defensive. "I'm sorry. I just, I wish I could... I tried to fit in at school and, and stuff but I just, I'm not..."

"Carol!" Her mother snaps, a little too loud, but the few trucker's occupying the rest of the diner don't even glance in their direction. "Carol James Fletcher, how dare you?"

Anything else Carol's feeling is instantly overcome with pure confusion. "Wait. What?"

"How dare you keep this from me?" The rage. Carol would never have thought her mother capable of such raw anger. It dominates her scent and sends her heart to beating so hard and rapid Carol hears it and half starts to worry. The older woman goes on, voice low. "I am your mother. How dare you think to keep this from me?" Before Carol can spit a response out the older woman snatches up her hand on the table and squeezes it tight. "That is at least six years of you being the perfect outcast and me wondering where the hell I'd gone wrong, wondering why the hell I couldn't just fix it. Six years of you handling this alone when you didn't need to. Carol James Fletcher, you are my daughter, I knew this was a possibility, and if you ever lie to me like this again I'll disown you for that. That said, there is nothing else you could ever do to make me stop loving you. So I want you to tell me everything I don't know. Right now, no exceptions. Is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am." Carol chokes out, just barely. Tears spill over. In fact, several long moments pass before she can go on, because her whole body is trembling with the sobs. After not too long her mother comes to sit at her side and hold her until the fit of vague hysteria passes and she can breathe again. And then, she starts talking.

"So that's why you're late three times a week."

"Yeah. I..I tried not going a few times, but, uh, I figured you wouldn't be too happy if any sleazy truckers walked out of the diner with their noses broke, so..."

Her mother breaks into laughter. Half incredulous, but genuine. "Well. No, that would probably not be the best way for that to end. Oh, Carol, if I'd only known...it's just. There's some things I need to explain. About your..."

Carol yawns. She doesn't mean to, really tries to hold it back, but a full belly and the odd sort of calm that steals over her after she gives into her tears has her feeling just exhausted now.

Her mother softens, reaching out to brush back a strand of Carol's hair. "Come on. We'll talk more tomorrow. You need to sleep."

...

It's no use. She's awake now.

She's not sure what it is that woke her, but she hadn't been sleeping too deep to begin with so it could have been anything. She is exhausted, but with Wild Thing still so riled up there's no way she can settle down properly.

Her mother doesn't stir. Her breathing is deep and even, her heart rate slow and steady. She's sound asleep.

Sighing, Carol quietly shuffles off across the motel room and out the door. Coming to stand outside just in front of her little red pickup truck, she pauses a moment to look up at a bright, beautiful full moon and just breathe. She still can't quite wrap her head around what's happened. The image of the woman lying dead on the front porch of the home she'd grown up in...the sharp, metallic, distantly familiar stench of fresh blood...the massive feral that could throw her around like she was little more than a child's plaything...it all swims circle in her head.

"Hey." Carol looks up as footsteps sound on the sidewalk, heading towards her. It's Jack, carrying a shopping bag from the truck stop. He reaches into it and pulls out a small carton wrapped in plastic, and a lighter to go with it. "I, ah, was pretty sure these were the kind your friend had that night."

A small but genuine smile of gratitude graces Carol's lips as she unwraps the pack of squares. "They are. Thanks." She pulls one out and offers one to him.

"Your mom know you smoke?"

"I don't think my mom's ever even heard me swear before. She'd for sure have my head over these things."

"Yeah, that's what I was figurin'. I won't tell if you don't."

Carol musters up a smile again. "Thanks." A pause as she takes a drag of her cigarette. "So...where exactly are we headed?"

"Down to the States. New York."

"New York? Like...the city?"

Amusement colors his tone. "No. Though, I'd definitely recommend a trip there too. Bit too noisy for someone like us to call home, but it's fun in small doses. No, we're headed to the countryside. I've got some friends down there, run this pretty old boarding school. They can offer protection, too. You'll be more than safe there. They already know we're coming. I could've called in for their help when I knew Victor was getting close, but I figured you 'n I could manage without all the pomp and circumstance."

Carol rakes a hand through her hair. "We weren't expecting to be heading out of the country. I mean Jesus, I didn't have time to think shit through enough to be expecting anything. We don't have our passports or..."

Jack blows smoke up at the moon and waves her off flippantly. "I've already pulled some strings. Just leave all that to me, sister."

...

"I know where we're going." Her mother says quietly.

A full day has passed in between; they'll probably stop again soon. Jack says they can make it to their destination tomorrow, assuming no one on either end minds a late arrival.

"You do?" Carol asks, glancing at the older woman with an eyebrow raised.

Her mother's staring out the window, seeming older and tired. "I stayed there for a time when..." A pause. She lets out a breath. "When I knew your father." Carol glances sharply at her, but says nothing. The older woman goes on. "It's..kind of a safe haven."

"What, for..for freaks like me?"

A spike of anger tinges her mother's scent. "For people who are gifted like you."

Carol lets out an incredulous laugh. "Gifted? Who calls this a gift? Wish I could send it back like a gift."

"Carol." Her mother snaps. "That's not funny. I know your scared now you've seen what Victor is capable of but he is not the rule, you need to understand..."

"Understand? Mom, do you understand? Normal person gets pissed off, and what, someones nose gets broke? And that's at worst." She tears one hand from the steering wheel and holds it up as a fist, unleashing her claws. "These things will cut through metal. I get pissed off and I could easily kill someone!"

Her mother's startles visibly at the sight of the long spikes of bone. "But you wouldn't. Would you?" She answers, softer now. "That's why you started sneaking off behind my back. You've learned control and there'll be people where we're going that can help you learn it better still. Victor is an animal long since beyond saving. You..you're just young, honey."

But you wouldn't, would you?

The thought dances along a dark path through Carol's mind, I already have.

Frustration wells up within Carol, though at what she isn't sure. Possibly her mother's inability to understand why Carol more often feels cursed than gifted, possibly at her own inability to believe her mother instead. She wants to explain the one thing she hasn't had the guts to yet, but she..she just can't. He's dead and buried and if they ain't found the body yet they probably never will, so what's the point anyway?

The frustration builds further. She's tired and hungry and sick of driving. Without regard for the fact she's meant to be following Jack's car up ahead of her, she veers off sharply into the nearest gas station and screeches into a parking spot. Pulling out the smokes she'd hidden away, uncaring if her mother sees, she gets out of the car and wanders off a few paces to light one.

She can feel her mother's eyes on her. The old woman never actually gets out or says a word, though.

...

It's a mansion.

It's bigger than her grandparents' estate. A sprawling, gorgeous three-story fortress of solid brick, and it's twice the size of her grandparents' estate.

"This is it." Carol asks her mother, staring blankly out the window as they pull up. "This is...?"

"Yep." Her mother answers simply.

"Oh." Carol gets out of the truck, feeling slightly dazed. "Well. Shit."

Jack pulls up next to her truck and gets out, raising an eyebrow at Carol. "You ok there, princess? I know all this has gotta be a little overwhelm-"

"Don't," Carol snaps, shooting him a hard glare, "call me 'princess'. I'll break your nose again, jackass."

"Carol James..." Her mother starts, half incredulous, half exasperated. "I would suggest you start watching your mouth and..."

"Or what?" Carol snaps back. She can't help it. Her nerves are fried. "What are you going to do? You never told me about this." She sweeps a hand out, gesturing towards the mansion. "You knew who Victor was, but you've never mentioned him before. Sounds like you knew Dad better than you made it sound before, but of course, you never told me a thing about him either. So what, old woman? What am I supposed to believe you have the guts to do to me now?"

Joan says nothing. Just stands there, staring at Carol, eyes shining with un-shed tears.

Jack clears his throat. "Take it easy, kid." He says, quieter now. "Lets just get inside."

The outside is large and old and imposing. The inside is... less of all those things. In fact, it's rather cozy. There's still signs of it being old - paintings on the walls, vases set on old wood tables. In fact, most everything's wood. But that only serves to make it feel homely somehow. As Jack leads them further in, they pass a carpeted recreation room of sorts with, among other odds and ends, a large t.v. and a Foosball table.

"I called the boss lady up just a few minutes ago," Jack says as he pauses just before the rec room, "she should -" he cuts off, abrupt, this pause only very brief, "she should be down shortly." But Carol sees...he's tensed. His scent changes. Only minutely, but she recognizes it because it's the same sort of general aura she'd take on if she was almost, just halfway expecting trouble.

He'd said 'she'. But the first person to make an appearance is a man, not a woman.

"Jack." The new face greets in a gruff baritone. He comes up and takes Jack's offered hand, then leans in for one-armed hug - a manly sort of affection, but a genuine affection. "'Roro says she'll be down in a minute. We weren't expecting you to make it here tonight."

Carol thinks nothing much of the stranger for the first few seconds. Mostly, this is because her mother's scent changes as sharply as Jack's had. Carol recognizes this change too, but it's...coming from her mother? Her mother's had boyfriends before, all of them jerks, not to mention her stepfather, but Carols' never noticed this in her mother with any of those men.

And that leads her to size up the stranger. Tall - very tall. Broad shouldered, stocky, nothing but muscle in his plain white t-shirt. Obnoxious haircut. Mutton chops - who even wears those anymore? Smells of cigars and beer. Feral.

Feral?

The last observation...she can smell it. The same way she can smell it with Jack, could smell it with Victor.

And he's staring now. At her mother. His eyes widen and speck with gold (the way Jack's do, the way Carol's do).

Carol drinks all this in and tilts her head in a fashion her mother tells her is almost like that of a curious puppy.

Her mother smiles softly, her voice going low and and almost husky as she stares back at the tall stranger. "Hello Jimmy."

"Joanie." The stranger - Jimmy - breathes the name with an obvious reverence. He glances at Jack. "Where - how - why didn't you tell-"

Jimmy. Victor had mentioned a 'Jimmy'. Carol had made a connection there - her middle name - oh. Oh?

Jack scrubs a hand through his hair. "Bit of a long story, Pops. Sorry, I ah, I thought about warnin' you but I wasn't sure how..."

"Wasn't sure..?" Th change in the stranger is abrupt, the mood swing to frustration an almost violent one. "You told us you found a runaway and instead you show up with - with her?" The emphasis on the word isn't one of disgust or anything like it. It sounds more like, maybe, he just can't wrap his head around something.

"Jimmy." Her mother tries to regain his attention. "Don't be angry with him. How would you have explained a situation like this?"

Jimmy's eyes train themselves back on Joan. He swallows, blows out a breath. "Jesus, it's really you." He takes a few tentative steps closer.

"I'm sorry." Carol blurts, nothing but hostile sass as she inserts herself between her mother and this - this Jimmy. But - no. It's not Carol that blurts it. Just like it couldn't have really been Carol that fought Victor off so ferociously days ago, just like it couldn't have been Carol telling her mother off like she just had, just like it's never really Carol fighting in that cage. This is that other thing that paces circles inside her head, the thing she can cage but never quite control. Wild Thing goes on, tone dripping with contempt. "Who are you, then?"

His eyes, finally, land on her for more than just a passing glance. He sniffs the air, sizes her up, and tilts his head in a way that would almost make him comparable to a curious puppy if he wasn't so big and scruffy a character. "Well I know Joanie ain't a mutant. So I'm guessin' you're the supposed 'runaway'. Couldn't even be bothered to mention she was feral, Jack? Je-esus."

Carol tries to put a lid on it, breathe for a minute, think this through, but something about him has her feeling, just...he's so much taller than her, bigger, an alpha feral she's never seen before with obvious ties to her mother and none of this is sitting right with her. Wildthing won't give her back the reigns, simply refuses to. "Ain't a runaway." She spits back at him. "I got my ass kicked by an oversized man-cat just after he decided to leave me a little present on the front porch. Hell of a mess we made, too, and Jack's the only reason Mom and I escaped, now answer my question."

But he doesn't. He staring over her, past her, at Joan again. "Mom. You're her - this is your kid?"

Her mother answers, calm and quiet and matter-of-fact. "Yes." How is she so calm?

"Yours. Your kid."

"Yes."

"Your feral kid."

"Evidently."

The stranger's eyes land back on Carol. "How old?"

Carol's brows furrow. "Does somebody wanna bother to tell the 'kid' just what's going -"

"How old?" He demands it this time, voice low, gruff.

Carol starts a bit at the intensity of his stare coupled with the tone of voice. "I'm 17."

"17." He repeats. His eyes dart back to Joan, a question in them now.

"Carol James." Her mother tells him, as if that answers the question.

"James. You run off - you - and then you name her - goddammit." He's angry, reeks of anger, brushes past Carol to snatch up Joan's arm and pull her along through a door on the far side of the foyer.

Her mother's odd calm finally breaks, but it's not fear that shows through. Carol knows that expression - it's anger, indignation. She hears yelling, now, but it's distant already, muffled by thick old walls.

Stomach twisting into a knot, Carol moves to go after them, but Jack holds out an arm to stop her, and when she looks up at him, his expression is dead serious. "Now ain't the time. Sorry, kid. Best just - let 'em talk it out."

"That's..." A hand flies to her mouth as realization fully dawns. She stares up at Jack. "That's our father."

"Yep." His ear twitches just visibly as footsteps sound. "Anyway, here comes..." He clears his throat as a woman makes her way down a flight of steps. "The boss lady. Nice timing."

"I'm so sorry," the tall, dark, pretty woman sweeps across the floor and offers Carol a warm smile, "one of the younger students woke up from a nightmare in tears, the poor dear, I was putting her back to sleep. I'm Ororo and uhm, oh." It mostly comes out in one long continuous train of thought, until she takes her eyes off Carol and looks around some. "Where's Logan? What's going on?"

"Hey, that's what I'd like to know, lady." Carol cuts in, notes that it came out far more gruff and aggressive than she'd meant for it too, glances at Jack when he nudges her, takes a deep breath and lets it out slow. "I mean, erm. I'm Carol. Fletcher. It's, uh, nice to meet you." And then, belated, a respectful afterthought. "Ma'am."

The older woman takes a moment to look Carol over and give a knowing 'hmm'. "You've been driving all day I assume, you must be tired and hungry. Come on. I'll take you the kitchen, we'll find you both something to eat while we talk."

.

"...think maybe you could be bothered for once in your long, miserable life to show some restraint, James Logan, for heaven's sake -"

"You come waltzing back in here like this with her and it's been eighteen damn years and you want to talk about restraint, god, Joanie, do you know what it took to keep myself from chasing after you ?"

"A little whiskey and a couple leggy blondes is about all it took, I'll bet, knowing you, and cut the growling, you know I'm not afraid of you!" Silence. For several moments. Deafening silence. And then she goes on, quieter now, calmer again. "Victor found us. I can't imagine why it took this long, but he found us. She fought him, Logan. One on one and...and held her ground, if only for a very short time. I didn't - she never told me she had the gifts. I'm seeing a side of her now...I didn't know until a few days ago, ending up here is a shock to me too, and please. Try to consider how she's feeling."

"Consider how she's..." He shakes his head, incredulous. "Jesus. I can't even decide how I feel about this right now." He pauses. Seems to think a moment, his brows furrowing. "Victor. She fought Victor? That - that little half pint out there?"

"I just said. It's a shock to me too."

"Am I dreamin'?"

"What do you think, yah big oaf?"

"No way. You sound too much like you."

Silence again. And then she chuckles. And then he does too.

"You really named her Carol James?"

Joan nods, smiling softly. "She hates her first name, actually, but her grandmother..it's complicated."

"It always was. Always is." He looks away now, paces the room a bit. "Maybe...I'll make myself scarce, then. Just..for a few days."

"Your version of considering how she feels?" Joan asks, knowing. Years and years, and she still knows him.

"Giving her time to figure out how she feels." He answers. And there is logic there.

A pause. The next comment is biting, but it's a thought that's eaten at her for years. "...A little whiskey. Couple of leggy blondes. Was always distraction enough for you. Suppose that's just what you'll need, else you'll be as intolerable as her. Just let me point out she's let me catch her smoking now, and she holds the damn things like it's already a habit. Even if she didn't have the gifts, she could only be your daughter."

His jaw sets. He studies her hard, stalking forward to ghost a hand against her cheek, and for a moment it almost seems as though... But no. A scowl contorts his features; he turns and leaves before anything more can happen.

Joan just sighs. Old dogs. Never new tricks. She would've expected as much. Now, to see about her daughter...

.

"...and we'll get you settled in upstairs. I'm sure a good nights rest will do you a world of good."

Carol hasn't really heard a word Ororo has said. She's staring down at her empty plate, unable to really even think anymore. She's tired and angry and really just wishes she could be left alone.

Jack answers the older woman when Carol remains silent. "You're probably right. Did you tell the other girls about her?"

"Erm..." Ororo hesitates, but then goes on in the same vein, as if Carol is no longer in the room. "Yes. But I thought I would put her in one of the guest rooms with her mother for the first few nights here, just until she and the others can get acquainted."

Carol can feel Jack's eyes on her, but she still says nothing.

Footsteps sound out in the hallway - one set her mothers, the other a much heavier set clearly belonging to...to... Carol can't even think the word. Her fists clench as the footsteps grow closer.

Ororo brightens as they enter the kitchen. "Oh! Hello." She glances at Him, a question in her eyes, though she doesn't voice it. Instead, she turns to Carol's mother. "I'm Ororo Munroe - erm, the 'boss lady' as Jack so quaintly puts it, although that's only somewhat accurate."

"...mostly accurate." Jack and Logan correct in unison, the tones of their voices suggesting an eyeroll accompanies the statement.

"...only somewhat accurate considering Logan's been quite a bit of help lately." Ororo amends modestly.

"I just do what the boss lady tells me too." He fires back, clearly teasing.

Carol's fists are clenched so hard her nails dig into her palms. Jesus, he sounds so...so...

Ororo huffs, playful. "Hush, Logan, the lady hasn't even gotten to tell me her name yet."

Her mother sounds calm again. Tired maybe, but unbothered. "Joan Fletcher. Thank you for taking us in like this on such short notice."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all. You're perfectly safe here, that's the important part." A pause. Ororo, clearly, is plenty perceptive enough to understand something more is up. "Are you two...is everything alright? I seem to be missing something."

"Nothing." Logan answers. "I mean. I'll explain. Later. After you get Joanie and the kid all settled."

'Joanie'. Her mother's name slips from his lips with too much familiarity. And Carol's just had enough. She shoots to her feet, the stool she'd been sitting on falling over and clattering loud on the floor behind her. Four sets of eyes train themselves on her. Her mother opens her mouth to speak at the same time Logan does, and Ororo almost reaches out as if to lay a hand on Carol's shoulder.

Feeling almost unable to breathe, Carol's feet begin carrying her along without her fully giving them permission to. She darts past Jack and Ororo, refuses to look at her mother, and shoves past a startled Logan, slipping out of the room and back down the hall that should lead her outside again.

The grounds are as massive as the mansion itself and guarded on three sides by a forest.

She runs. She has no idea how much time passes, doesn't much care honestly. She doesn't want to think enough to care. She just wants to run. So she runs, until her legs scream and her lungs burn and she collapses, her body simply refusing to let her go any farther.

She falls asleep among the trees, unable to be bothered with getting back to her feet.

.

Someone comes to fetch her at some point. But it's been three days or so since she's really slept, and what she remembers is like a dream - massive arms scoop her up as though she weighs little more than a feather, carrying her quietly along, urging her to just go back to sleep. She mumbles, mostly incoherent, an honest apology for being so...so herself.

A low baritone murmurs a response, oddly soft now. "It's alright, kid. Yah don't gotta be sorry. I gotchyah now." His voice almost...there's just the barest hint of a waver, as though the words hold more meaning than just the obvious. "Yah're safe now."

She falls back asleep before they make it inside. It's another eight hours before she wakes again, wrapped up cozy in bed with an odd, vague memory of the gruff stranger coddling her like a wolverine would it's kit.

.

He's gone. That's one of the first things her mother assures her of. Logan (her..her..she still can't think it, oh God, she just can't right now) but he's gone. Wandered off for a few days, just until the dust settles.

How long does it take for the dust to settle after a twister hits?

Carol sneaks out with her smokes and lights up one, two, three in chain and hopes He'll stay gone a while.

...

(The hotel is cheap. The nearest bar is a dive, the nearest liquor store a rundown shack whose keeper apparently knows better than to question it when the very large stranger puts a sizable hole in his whiskey selection. And there are, indeed, a few leggy blondes of possibly questionable morals loitering around all three establishments.)

He drinks enough whiskey to poison any normal man - several times over. He doesn't even glance at the blondes, though.


	4. Just the Beginning 4

"We do have some students that go home for summer." Ororo explains as she leads Carol and Joan on a tour of the mansion. "But for the majority this is the only home they know anymore - the only home they've ever known, in some sad cases. We do have summer classes but none of them are mandatory. The art class," she points out as they pass a room that has clearly been altered to suit said class, "is generally pretty popular. Rogue should be back soon to continue teaching it."

Carol peers into the room and tries to remember when last she'd picked up a pencil and sketch pad. Weeks? Easily weeks. Since the first time she'd met Jack, in the cage. She'd been too keyed up and generally distracted since then. But now, as she peers into the classroom and smells that familiar smell of oil paints and crayons and pencil lead, her fingers itch for a more pleasant sort of distraction.

"I'll be sure to let you know when she returns, if you'd like." Ororo says, smiling wanly.

"Yes, please."

...

Ororo offers to introduce Carol to some of the other girls she'll be rooming with, but Carol politely refuses. She's got her head screwed on a bit straighter now and feels she can handle herself alright, and instead opts to just wander around a bit and let whatever happens, happen.

The other students keep a respectful enough distance. Not that they seem at all terribly unfriendly; many even offer her a smile. They just seem to know better than to crowd her. Strolling through the halls and exploring the grounds outside proves to be a bit of an adventure for her. She's seen on the news before about mutants, even seen footage of them using their powers, but never before has she seen anyone using their abilities so casually as some do here. The thought even flits across her mind that she may not be so much a freak herself - her quickened healing doesn't seem to be a common thing, but watching one blue-skinned kid climb all over a tree using a monkey's tail makes her other gifts seem relatively normal.

Actually, monkey-boy with his blue skin seems relatively normal compaired to the guy playing basketball with a bunch of others on the court out back.

He's blue, as well. But furry. And big. Probably tall as Logan, but somehow even broader. Carol wanders up closer to the basketball court, arms crossed as she watches the boys play. No surprise, the team with the big furry guy seems to be winning, though the rivalry being displayed seems entirely good-natured.

Big Blue is the only one to take any notice of Carol. A breeze blows past her towards the court, and he...he sniffs the air, catching her very feral scent. He looks over, gold eyes locking onto hazel for a fraction of a moment. A smile tugs at his lips, and he offers a nod in greeting before returning to the game. Carol strolls over to a picnic table set up a few paces away, deciding to watch until the game is over. She kind of wants to meet Big Blue.

Evidentally, he's thinking the same of her. The basketball goes out of bounds. When another player runs off after it, he makes a beeline for the picnic table. "They told me we had someone new." He starts with in a smooth baritone. "But, ah, I don't think anyone mentioned 'feral'."

"Hey, this whole place has been one big suprise for me." She chuckles. "So I guess that makes us even." She holds out a hand. "Carol Fletcher."

"Jake McCoy." He envelopes her hand in his massive one, squeezing just lightly as they shake. "You want to play with us?"

"Oh. No, basketball was never really my thing." For reasons mostly to do with her height..or slight lack thereof. "I just...spotted you and, well. Before yesterday I'd only ever met one other mutant that I knew of. And you're a little..uuh." She hesitates to finish the statement, unsure if she'll be offending him. It's not that she has any problems with his appearance, it's just that this is all so new.

"Blue and fluffy?" He laughs. "It's ok. I know this must all be a bit much. I grew up here, so I can only imagine what must be running through your head." Carol doesn't respond immediately, so he clears his throat and goes on. "So. Basketball, not the new girls thing, got it."

"Hockey. That's where I was always at."

"You wouldn't be alone around here on that, actually. Just, maybe the only girl..."

Carol grins at this. "Bet I'd kick butt at it anyway!"

"Oh, we'll test that out, don't you worry!" He grins back at the playful challenge.

The other boys on the court call out his name, wanting to get back to their game.

Carol waves him off. "It's ok. Go play your game, I'm just kinda...passin' through."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Ok. But I'll see you around, right?"

Carol's heart seems to skip a very odd beat at the hopeful tone to his voice. Jesus. Down girl. Only just met him. To cover the blush that may be coloring her cheeks, she winks. "Looking forward to it." She can't help it. She's just a flirt. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she wanders off.

She can feel his eyes on her back as she goes, but she doesn't look back. The last thing she needs is for anyone at this new place to think she's desperate for attention.

A group of tittering girls seems to make up most of the gathering that's watching monkey boy climb his tree.

"Hey! New girl!" One of them gestures towards her, excited. "Come watch! Donny never makes it all the way up but he's made it farther than he usually does!"

Carol peers up at Monkey Boy, raising an eyebrow. "Never makes it? Looks like he's doin' alright to me."

"Oooh, well, he could make it technically, I mean pretty easily probably, but that's what so funny." The other girl grins. "He's afraid of heights!"

"Well what's he doin' up there at all then?"

"Trying to impress Summer's I'd bet. Uhm, that's the firebrand over there, the one that just looks worried. I mean, it's kinda silly, she's got a boyfriend already and she's such a needy drama queen sometimes, but Donny's got this crush and I'm just like, whatever Donny. I'm Tash, by the way." She turns to Carol now, still talking a mile a minute. "Well, Natasha, but that's always seemed like a bit of a mouthful so most people just call me Tash. Sorry, I know, I blabber a lot, just tell me to shut up if I get to be too much. What's your name?"

For a moment Carol's mouth opens but nothing comes out. Tash is a little...overwhelming. But Carol's thoughts catch up soon enough, and she hands out her name again.

The girls around grow louder and more excited as Donny makes it higher up the tree and grows shakier. Tash loops an arm through Carols, pulling her along to pace the rest of the mansions grounds. "I'll congratulate Donny later. So! I have to ask. What's your mutation? I mean, the rumor is you're a feral, I know that means enhanced senses. But those are actually a little rare. I mean, we have Jake McCoy and his dad, and Mr. Logan of -," she falters oddly at this, almost as though she can sense the way Carol's stomach knots up a bit at the mention of Logan, "of course, but that's totally coincidence. So..so are you? Feral?"

"I am. Feral." Carol pauses, jittery with a nervous energy. She likes Tash already, and doesn't want to scare the other girl off somehow. But the only way to make a new friend, she supposes, is to take a chance. "And, I, erm...I heal."

"Heal? Like, how?"

"Well..." Carol considers just saying like 'Mr. Logan'. She's smart enough to put the pieces together; that has to be part of his mutation too. But she just can't bring herself to acknowledge that yet, so decides on a different approach. "Uhm. Promise to try not to freak out?"

"Of course!" Tash answers without missing a beat, (and Wildthing decides she really likes Tash, the other girls excitement is so genuine).

"Ok." Carol blows out a breath, brings her hand up, makes a fist, and releases her claws. Tash's eyebrows shoot up, but she smells excited, not wary or scared. Relaxing a fraction, Carol brings the claws back into hiding and tilts her fist towards Tash so the other girl can watch the skin between her knuckles knit itself neatly back together. "Like that."

"Oh. My. God!" Tash squeals in apparent delight. "That's sooo cool! I bet you never get sick either, that's the kinda mutation I was wishing for a few weeks ago when Jase gave me Mono and my throat swelled all up, like ugh."

Carol chuckles. "Nope. I used to get sick all the time when I was a little, I was stupidly scrawny, but the last time was when I was like eleven. Uhm. So...Monkey boy is, well, monkey boy. Already saw a kid that could fly, couple obvious mind freaks..wait. Sorry. That sounds bad, I just mean..."

"Telekinetics." Tash provides her with the right word, not seeming at all bothered. "We have a few, that ones pretty common. And don't apologize! You'll get it all figured out, I know it takes time."

Carol shrugs. "Well, what's your mutation then?"

"Empathy. Erm..literal empathy, I mean, I can actually sense emotion. Not telepathy," she adds in hastily, "I can't read thoughts! Just feelings. I always like to make sure people know that, cause I mean I can sometimes piece together what someones probably thinking when reading emotion and factoring in the context but that's just deduction. Educated guess work. And I try not to do it unless I kinda think it's necessary." That sounds...smart. Really smart. There's more to Tash than one might notice at first glance, Carol can already tell.

To put the other girl back at ease, Carol smiles in return and nudges her shoulder playfully. "...so this place is just full of mind freaks, huh?"

And just llike that Tash is smiling again. "Yeah, I guess so! Oooh, come on, lets go find Ms. Munroe, the girl that used to have the bed next to mine in our dorm, she just left for college so that bed is totally open now and you just have to have that one!"

.

"It's up to you."

"I don't know. Telling her now...it would almost seem cruel. And it's not as though...her grandfather has already promised to see to it. He probably has people combing through the ruins as we speak, he won't waste time while the weather is still warm."

A pause. "Let her settle in here, give her time to make a friend or two without this looming over her. She may be upset you didn't tell her sooner, but the trade off may be worth it. It's what I would do." Ororo offers. "Though, no one knows your daughter like you do."

Joan snorts. "Apparently, that's not saying much. There's an awful lot she managed to keep secret from me. I'd venture a guess that the only one who really knows what goes on in Carol's head is Carol herself."

Ororo smiles, laughing softly. "Aah. Like father, like daughter then, in many more ways than one. That's already quite clear."

Joan nods, returning the smile. "Well, yes. That, I have always known."

"Ms. Munroe?" A knock sounds on the cracked open door to Ororo's office, and a blonde head makes an appearance.

"It's alright Tash, you can come in."

Grinning, the bubbly sixteen-year-old throws the door open wider and loops an arm through her companions - her companion, incidentally, being Carol.

Ororo smiles warmly. "What can I do you for you girls?"

"I was wondering - assuming she'll be here a while, that is, I mean I'm sure -"

Carol interjects before Tash can get going, quiet but firm. "We were wondering if I can have the bed next to hers in the girls dorm."

Joan's eyes light up, and she relaxes a fraction in a way that's quite visible. Clearly, she's happy to see her daughter already making friends.

"Of course." Ororo answers, not missing a beat. "In fact, I think it's a wonderful idea. We'll get you settled there for tonight, then."

Tash squeals, and Carol winces at the same time a giggle makes it past her lips too. "Thanks, Ms. Munroe. We'll get out of your hair then - uhm. Just, is everything okay Ma?"

Joan hesitates, but only for a fraction of a moment. "Yes. Yes, dear, everythings fine. Listen, I know we didn't bring much with us, why don't you and I head out to town and do some shopping? We can bring..." She nods at Tash.

"Natasha! Tash for short." The blonde supplies her name, grinning.

Joan nods. "...Tash. We can bring Tash along, if you'd like."

Tash squeals again. Carol laughs. "Yeah, sure. Sounds..fun." Tash is already pulling her along, tittering on about how they should go 'dress cuter, we could go to the mall, there's always the cutest guys wandering around...' "Ah, guess we'll meet you down by my truck."

"Sounds like a plan." Joan watches them go, amusement clear on her face.

Ororo's eyebrows raise as she can still hear Tash from down the hall. "Tash has a tendency to get a little...attatched."

"Carol likes her." Joan says, tone suggesting it's a fact, not conjecture.

"Oh. Well. Alright then."

.

"Hey, whoa, slow down Half Pint. What's your hurry?"

Her first reaction is to cringe at the words 'half pint'. Just, ugh. Before she can get to the point of threatening bodily harm, though, the voice behind the words registers...and then so does the recognition of who it belongs to.

Eyes wide, Carol spins around. "Jack!"

He grins. "Well, yah don't have to act that surprised..."

"It's just...Ms. Monroe said you'd probably bow out pretty quick, and I was figuring it's not like you'd have much reason to care beyond..."

He waves her on to follow him. "Beyond...what? You're my sister. Besides you all I have is two half-brothers on my mom's side, and we don't always get along so well."

"So..so you're staying a while?" Carol asks, hopeful. She'd been so prepared for him to just vanish as quick and easy as he'd appeared, she tried not to let herself think it through any further. But the truth of it is, tough as she can play at being, the thought of having a big brother..of not feeling so oddly alone anymore..she likes it.

"Yep. I'm staying a while."

"Awesome!" The halls around them grow quieter and less occupied, and Carol realizes where he's leading her. "Why are we going down to the..."

"Because I've got something to show you."

He leads her into the garage, a cavernous space occupied by a variety of vehicles, including Carol's truck. It also serves as a mechanics dream work space, with a wall set with an extensive and well-used set of tools, plus a massive, wheeled red tool box.

Carol spots it immediately. It's the only thing that hadn't been there the last time she came down here. "Oh...oh, no way."

"You like it?"

Carol darts past every other car and work space, transfixed. "Like it? Oh my God, It's gorgeous."

Jack beams. "Yeah, had a feeling that'd be your reaction."

Carol runs a hand along smooth black leather and grins. It's a motorcycle. Polished chrome and deep purple with a skull designed on each side. "God, I've wanted to learn how to ride one for ages, but Mom wouldn't allow it."

"Well, hell. I gotta at least take you for a ride, then." He strolls over to the switch on the far wall that will send one of the large bay doors to opening.

Carol's eyebrows raise. "Wait..really?"

"Really." He tosses her the helmet hanging off the handle bars. "Not that we need one too bad, but, yah know..."

She straps it on - it's a little big, but it'll do - and gets on the 'bike behind him. She's never ridden on a motorcycle before, but something about it had always looked exhilerating.

Holding tight to her brother as he takes off with abandon, she realizes she may be hooked.

.

Days pass. The rest of the students continue to give Carol plenty of breathing room, unless she approaches them. She wonders if this is a general rule they keep to with all new people that come through, or if it has something to do with it being well known she's feral. A bit of both, maybe? Either way, she appreciates the hell out of it.

The art teacher is on her way back, she's informed, but she's welcome to borrow the supplies in the art room if she feels so inclined. All the 'new' she's surrounded by gives her plenty of fuel; she aquires a sketch book and within just a few days she's already got several pages worth of sketches. Some of the students going about their usual daily activities, a few of the grounds surrounding the school, and a few of Tash since that's who she finds herself spending the most time with. Oh. And then there's the ones of Jake McCoy that she's careful not to let anyone see because no way is she about to risk him finding out she has such an instant crush on him. Something about him just...just...

Sometimes, Carol isn't so well in control of certain things. She can't explain it. Instinct just likes to take over at certain times. And it is trying very hard to do so with Jake McCoy.

It doesn't help that he's so...just...he sits himself down with her in the cafeteria at lunch time on the occasion he sees she's alone. He drags her out to try playing some baseball, refuses to let her get away with staying inside when Ms. Munroe decides to let them all have a pool day, and gets one of the teachers to use his powers and coat the floor of the Danger room (one of her favorite rooms of the ones she's seen) with a layer of ice so they can use it to play a game of hockey.

(He captains one team while she captains the other. She can skate circles around Jake, and her team wins easy.)

She could almost think he's actively flirting with her, but he always backs it up a bit when she tries to really flirt back. So clearly he does like her. Just, only as a friend.

Wild Thing doesn't like this. Not one bit. Thinks he's..he's..

Thinks he might just be mate material. But Carol is not going there, so she ignores the instinct. For crying out loud! She can't be thinking about that at seventeen! It won't get her anywhere anyway; he's got a girlfriend. Some girl a few years older than them named Sarah.

So Carol will just..enjoy him as a friend. She can do that.

Yeah. Of course she can.

...

Logan reappears after a few days. She's calmed down some by this point, herself. Just decides to give him a wide berth for now. Maybe he'll make the first move.

He seems to have decided the first move should be hers.

They seem to be at an impasse.

Carol decides to just let it be for now.

...

"Anyone show you what the Danger Room can do yet?" Jack asks her one afternoon, sat across from her at the greasy steakhouse where he's buying her dinner.

"No. Well, I mean, Ms. Munroe showed me where it is and explained what it's used for, since my Mom had already told me about the X-Men, but no one actually showed me. Why?"

Before he can answer, their waitress makes an appearance, a tall and rail thin woman, middle-aged, her hair dyed blonde. "Sorry, I apologize for the wait, it's awful busy here today. Pair o' you know what you want yet, or...?"

Carol goes first when Jack nods at her. "The sirloin, sixteen ounce. Rare. And a loaded baked potato, please." She doesn't given any thought to how odd it must seem - a relatively petite young woman dressed in a pink blouse and white skirt, ordering enough food to just about satisfy someone Jack's size. Usually, when around anyone else aside from her mother, she quietly orders what they would expect of her - a salad or something. But it's been ages since she's had some real food as a result of this, and she knows Jack doesn't care.

The waitress, however... two manicured eyebrows shoot up in surpise. "Erm..well..salad or..."

"Soup. Cheesy potato."

"That's an awful lot of food. Girl your age ought to start thinkin' about watchin' her figure...and are you sure you want that steak rare?"

The reaction is ridiculous. The waitress probably shouldn't be making comments like this, but it's not the older womans fault Carol presents such an odd picture. Wild Thing races half way to the surface defensively anyway and a scowl contorts Carol's features. "If it ain't still mooin', I don't want it." She fires back, accent growing more slangy and voice lowering to it's natural alto. "And hell, maybe if you bothered to sit down for a real meal there'd be curves enough on you to fill those jeans out. Might make yah less a judgemental old bitch, at that."

Clearly startled, the woman clears her throat and gives a shaky nod. "Erm. Rare steak, loaded baked potato, soup, got it. Ah. And you?"

Jack's got an eyebrow raised in Carol's direction, but doesn't miss a beat as he orders his food and the waitress shuffles off. "...that would be why." He answers Carol's earlier question. "You can fool everyone else for a while I'm sure, but you won't fool me or Logan. We've both been there. Going through so many changes, under so much stress. You need a way to blow off steam."

Carol can't bring herself to feel too bad about snapping at the waitress. But she knows her brother's right. "Show me when we get back then?"

He nods. "My pleasure."

...

The Danger Room, he explains, can be used to set up many different sorts of simulations for the X-Men - sentinels, Brotherhood opponents, members of the Hellfire Club. But it can also, much more simply, be used to set up a sort of opstical course, either with basic dumbies to be targeted, or to be worked around. Jack sets up one with an equal measure of both.

And he shows her...

He shows her how to fight.

Not like she learned to fight in the cages. That's dirty fighting, and Jack admits that style has it's place. But what he shows her is a little more uniform. Moves that are meant to stun and disarm only temporarily, not to fully disable. For one with gifts like theirs - a healing factor, enhanced senses, animal instincts, and some enhanced strength - performing these moves correctly requires equal degrees of restraint and concentration.

That's why he shows them to her, he says. "Learn to perform these moves as their meant to be performed and you'll have learned some control of the rage by default. Let it out, but only in bursts. You don't always have to maim someone to get their attention."

She quickly comes to the decision that she enjoys him as a sparring partner.

...

"...we should totally ask Ms. Munroe about taking another trip to the mall," Tash is prattling on as she and Carol wander there way down to find some breakfast, "a bunch of us could go and...hey! What's wrong?"

Wild Thing floats forcefully to the surface as she catches a familiar scent... That perfume. No one else here at the mansion uses it, but she remembers someone else who had. She follows the trail.

Tash stays hot on her heels. "Hey! Carol! What are you...where are you going?"

"Someone new..." She grumbles, darting quickly past a few other students, trailing down the hallway...the hallway that leads to the art room, actually. "Someones just got here."

Tash is quickly getting used to Carol's odd swings in mood and feral tendencies towards easy distraction (even if the empath doesn't always realize that's what she's sensing in her friend). She doesn't miss a beat. "Rogue, maybe, the art teacher? Oh, I hope so! I've missed her, she's soooo nice!"

What are the chances that the art teacher would just happen to wear that same unique perfume as...

Not very good. Carol doesn't bother knocking, just throws open the door to the art room and comes to stand inside, arms crossing. "Anna. Yah know, I could tell right away there was somethin' off about yah."

It's the waitress that her mother had recently hired at her diner. All the way back home, way up in Alberta. Odd that she should end up here in New York, as well.

Tall. Dark hair with that pretty streak of white. She's dressed far different now, looks nothing like a teacher - a black tank top beneath green fishnet, skinny jeans and lips painted black. Black gloves, too. Very punk, Carol kind of likes it.

"It's Rogue, actually. Nice to see yah too, hon."

"Oh. Do you already know..." Tash has just caught up and stops short next to Carol, bewildered.

Hard now and bordering on angry, Carol doesn't take her eyes off Rogue even as she answers her friend. "Nope. Never seen her before. Hey, can you give us a minute? I'll come find yah."

Tash blinks at her, clearly unsure what to do with the sudden change in her friend. But shrugs. "Yeah. Okay. Uhm, welcome back Miss Rogue."

"I'll see yah soon, Tash."

The blonde beats a hasty retreat.

As soon as she's sure the blonde is out of earshot, Carol shuts the door and stalks further into the room a few paces. "Do you mind tellin' me what in the hell you're playin' at lady?" Her accent has gone kinda slangy again, like she learned from her friends at the Warehouse, and her voice has lowered to it's normal alto.

Rogue sighs, though that might be amusement that's dancing behind her eyes. "Easy there, peaches. Play wasn't mine. I just do what the..."

"Boss lady tells yah too." Carol finishes for her, scowling. "Rule number one around here, eh?"

"Pretty much. Boss lady's the only one liable to try an' tell yah any different, oddly enough." Rogue shrugs. "Anyhow, you were makin' some waves up there. Big enough to catch attention elsewhere, and then else-elsewhere and then...well, 'Roro's got an odd way of just knowin' stuff. We still don't know how she does it. But she told me to head on up north and check it out, an' that's all I was doin'." A pause. The older woman crosses her arms as she eyes Carol up, a mischievous smirk tugging at her lips. "You kicked serious ass in that cage."

Carol blinks. And then almost blushes. "You..you saw that?"

"You kiddin'? Who'd want to miss that?" The smirk turns itself into a grin, transforming Rogue's face entirely. "I mean, it made it all the more interestin' when I saw it was Jack up there, too. D'you know, I ain't seen anyone who can hand Jack his own backside like that, save for Logan. Course he maybe just wasn't ready for yah ta be such a little hurricane. But whew, you were fun to watch, peaches."

Carol finds herself fair beaming with pride. She can't even help it. "Well...really?"

"Really."

"Thanks." There's a pause as Carol's thoughts work there way past the distraction. And then she finds herself staring. "I'm...sorry. This is going to be rude an' I know it but uhm, how can you be a mutant when...?"

Rogue holds up her gloved hands. "Well, that ones a long story. See, there's a way to kinda...hide our powers. Make 'em go away, just for a little while. It's messy to start with, though..can get even more so the longer yah use it if yahr like me and the temptations too strong."

Carol eyes up the gloves. "So..what's.."

Rogue smiles again, softer this time. Warm and sweet. "It's alrigh, sugah. My mutation is my skin. I touch people and things happen. Used to be I'd drain yah all together, like a damned leech. But I got some control now. Can just take bits n' peices. I've got real good with just borrowin' other powers. Fact is, I don't always even need the gloves, but usin' the serum long as I did leaves my control a little shaky for a while, so just to be safe it's the gloves again for now. Anyway," she goes on, not giving Carol time to respond, abruptly chipper again "Ah was told that if Ah find anythin' missin' in here, you're prob'bly the culprit. Ah hope yah aren't plannin' to hold out on meh! Ah have class three days a week, Monday, Wednesday, Thursday."

Wild Thing takes stock of the woman. Sniffs the air, takes a moment to work out whether her instincts are screeching any warnings, like they used to. But she gets nothing of the same vibe from the older woman now. Anna - Rogue - whatever her name is, she's being genuine now. Plain honest. And Carol would really like to keep her free access to the art supplies. "I'll be here."

"With some sketches to show me?" Anna adds sweetly.

"Yeah. With some sketches."

"Lookin' forward to it, peaches!" The older woman grins happily.

Carol wanders back out of the art room wondering, not for the first time since arriving at the mansion, what the hell just happened?

...

It happens slowly. At first Jamie just makes sure to come to the art classes every week because she wants the free access to supplies. But Anna...Anna likes her.

"These sketches are amazing. Yah really never took an art class before?"

Jamie shrugs. "I wanted to. But grandmother was a dancer and wanted me to be one too. Said it would help me to be more poised r' somethin, and between that and hockey...anyway, erm, I can draw well enough I guess but I'm really no good at all with a paint brush or anything else."

Anna beams at this, apparently delighted. "Well, you can come find me whenever yah like, then, sugar, I'd just love to give yah some extra lessons, it'd be fun and I think yah'd enjoy it!"

Jamie's hesitant, but isn't even sure why, and Anna's smile is so sweet, her excitement so genuine. "Well..alright. Yeah, sure. Sounds good."

...

A few weeks pass and classes start up. Carol asks her Mom if the plan is really for her to finish out her 12th grade year at the Mansion. Her mother shrugs and just asks, why not?

So...it's that simple, in the end. They just..stay.

...

"I put Rogue's class on your rotation, last one of the day." Ororo tells her. "She said you'd likely want to take it."

Carol doesn't mind the idea at all.

...

"... I mean, do we really even need to know geometry? It's like, who actually uses..." Tash is prattling on in her usual no-breath-in-between sort of way. "... I doubt we'll even remember that anyway! Right? Hey. Carol?"

Carol starts a bit. She'd been ignoring the other girl, though not on purpose. "Huh?"

"You ok? You're not even eating, aren't you usually like starving by now?" Tash looks genuinely worried. "You're not sick, are you? I thought that wasn't possible."

"It's not, really. I'm fine." Carol tries to be reassuring. "I'm just - thinking. That's all." She reaches for her fork and stabs at her salad with complete disinterest. She is hungry, but not for the leafy rabbit food. Why does she keep up this charade anymore, anyway? She's starting to forget her own reasoning.

"Well c'mon, something is wrong, I can feel it."

"It's nothing, Tash. I'm just..."

"It's Jake. Isn't it?"

Carol scowls, but says nothing. Jake has been MIA for days now. No one knows why, but the speculation is that he'd been quietly given leave to go see his girlfriend - the girlfriend herself being a few years older and already in college.

"Oh! I felt that, it is because of Jake! Well, you know, I did tell you he's got a girlfriend." Her tone is sympathetic, not haughty as the words would imply.

"Yeah, well. Not too bright, am I?"

"Her Birthday is coming up in a few days. Ms. Munroe's his mom, he probably didn't have to work too hard to convince her to let him go see Summers before she comes to visit this weekend. You'd better just forget him. He and Summers have had this thing going for like ever."

Carol picks sullenly at her salad and says nothing more.

"Y'know." Tash goes on anyway, tone a little more mischievious now. "There's plenty of other boys here who are kinda into you."

Carol snorts, eyebrow raising. "Really?"

"You're kinda a babe, you know that right? Don't act so surprised. You just need to act a little more - approachable."

"I mean, I've never had trouble where that's concerned before. I just didn't realize..."

"Well, I think it's time you start. C'mon, lets see. Hmmm. Unbutton the blouse a bit. What are you anyway, a nun?" Carol almost laughs out loud at the thought, but complies, and Tash goes on. "There. I mean, you've got plenty to show off, why not flaunt it? And the hair - take the bun out." Carol rolls her eyes, but reaches up to take out the pins holding her hair in a neat chignon at the nape of her neck. Thick brunette waves flow down to rest over her shoulders and Tash grins. "Gorgeous!" The bell rings. Lunch has ended. Tash looks Carol over one last time as they stand to leave, and nods as though her work is done. "Good enough, anyway. Now c'mon. Shoulders back, chin up, and walk like you're looking for a snack. Trust me, one will find you."

Carol can't hold back the laughter this time. "Aw, Jesus - hey, who even taught you to talk like that?"

Tash just grins and struts off to her next class, hips swaying.

...

She's right, though. All Carol has to do is flash a smile in the right direction. By the time two more classes are through, she's got two potential dates and one straight-up-but-low-key offer of sex (granted the last one is from a boy she's flirted a bit with before).

("There's this old tool shed way out at the furthest corner of the grounds, surrounded by woods, no one goes out there except for... I mean, we could just go for a walk, if you wanna.")

Damn. What is it with the kids at this place? No ones wastin' any time, that's for sure.

Her last class being art with Anna, there are more girls than boys crowding the room. None of them pay her much mind - Carol keeps mostly to herself in this class - but she can hear the whispers.

"Did you know she's coming to visit again?"

"Jake McCoy's been gone a few days, I wonder if...?"

"You know, he's been working for his Dad, helping out down in the lab, I heard he bought her flowers..."

"...bet he puts a ring on that by graduation if he can work the money up, no way he keeps her on the hook much longer if he doesn't, you know how she talks..."

Carol doesn't get angry. Honestly, she doesn't. Actually she's kinda just - annoyed at herself. For having sat on it for weeks without just asking him or...or...

She takes her pick of the boys who had approached her that day, naturally deciding on the brave one that had straight up offered sex. Sneaking out and away proves easier than she thought it would be - it's a nice evening, and there are other kids scattered all over the mansions grounds. They wander off slow and quiet, Carol flirts shamelessly, he almost loses his nerve, she pulls him along, and...well. He's almost definitely a virgin. She'd figured as much, but kinda likes the idea of being the one to fix that for him. She draws it out, too, flirts and teases and flirts some more until he probably won't last much longer and then she...

It isn't until much later, when she's in bed that night and trying to sleep and the rush begins to wear off the rest of the way, that she realizes. This is an awful small school. And one thing she's become hyper-aware of very quickly is that rumors at a very small school spread like wildfire.

Oh. Shit.


	5. Just the Beginning 5

_"Oh my gosh, did you hear about Dillon and that new girl?"_

 _"He won't stop talking about it."_

 _"Guess she really knew what she was doing."_

 _"Well what would you expect anyway, have you heard whose daughter she is?"_

 _"I'm not surprised, I mean did you see the way she'd been all over Jake McCoy for a while there, like didn't she know..."_

 _"Figures a girl who dresses like that would be a total whore, the richest bitches always are..."_

...

"Ah. J-Joanie."

"Yes, Logan."

Silence.

"Logan?"

"The kid."

"...Logan." She still doesn't look up from her pottery.

"Theotherlittlebratsaretalkin'abouther." He says it too fast.

"Come again?"

"I said..." He huffs. "I said the rest of the kids are talkin' about her."

"Oh." It's a vase she's attempting to make. Something she can put in her own room here, add some flowers, maybe brighten it up some. Roses, maybe. "Nothing good, I'd imagine. What's she done now?" She answers him, airy.

"Well, uhm..just..promise not to shoot the messenger?"

Brows furrowing, Joan finally looks up from her pottery, turning to her ex-lover.

He scrubs a hand through his too-short hair and down to rub at the back of his neck. "It's just..yah're really not gonna like this..."

...

The doors of the art room fly open fast enough that some of the papers on Anna's desk go flying.

Carol looks up just as the rest of the students do, as they've got at least a half hour of class time left. Her stomach drops a bit, though, when she sees its her mother causing the disturbance. "I'm sorry." Joan Fletcher says tightly, addressing Anna. "But I need to steal my daughter. Carol James, we need to talk, now."

Carol gets to her feet obediently and begins gathering her things. Anna watches her go with eyebrows raised, but says nothing. The other kids around murmur among themselves, but that's aright, Carol's used to that.

Her mother doesn't say a word, just takes Carol's arm and marches her along down the halls until they reach the room the older woman has been staying in.

Logan is there waiting. He looks and smells wary, like this definitely wasn't his plan for the day at all.

"What's he even doing..." Carol starts, sounding petulant but unable to help herself.

"Ah, you know, kids got a point Joanie, is this really my -"

Joan just looks at him. Just _looks_. The Wolverine's mouth snaps shut, and his expression is almost that of a frightened puppy. He stays put. It would be downright comical under different circumstances.

"Okay. Mom." Carol tries again, contrite now. "Whatever, uh, 'it' is, I promise I didn't..."

Her mother lashes out, sharp and calculated. A hand connects with Carol's cheek. Hard.

Logan winces from his position a few feet away, murmuring an 'oof'. "Joanie..."

The older woman holds her hand up, and he once again shuts his mouth. Then she points at Carol. "Don't. You even. Start with me. You told me, you promised me this would be a fresh start, you _promised me_ you'd try to behave."

"I have - I mean - what are you -?" Carol stutters, trying to beat around the only bush her mother could be trying to steer her towards.

"Holes deep enough, _quit_. _Diggin_ '. _Kid_." Logan mutters.

"You know damn well what I mean Carol James Fletcher!" Joan screeches. "What were you thinking? Sneaking off with some boy just to - to..."

Carol brings a hand up to rub at the back of her neck, sheepish. "I was..just..blowing off steam is all, I mean...he offered pretty readily..." She glances at Logan, hoping for him to offer some kind of help, but he just brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

"And just how much a habit has this sort of thing been for you, then, eh?" Joan tears into her further. "You sure write it off easy enough!"

"Uhm..all do respect, Ma..I probably shouldn't answer that." Carol has no desire to keep poking the hornets nest, but she'll now be in trouble no matter what she says.

"I can't believe this." Her mother barks back. "You're grandmother warned me, you know, from the very start, she told me I had better work harder to reign you in, wild child that you were, but I was so convinced -"

Carol says nothing more as her mother goes on. She stands straight, keeps her mouth shut, and just takes the verbal beating. She does deserve it after all, in more ways than her mother knows.

"...maybe I should send you up to live with her for your last year of school, Lord knows my mother will teach you some manners if no one else can!"

A tear slides down Carol's cheek. But she still says nothing.

"Joanie." Logan speaks up again, firmer this time. He probably smells Carol's tears. "I think that's enough for -"

"Oh, what do you know James?"

"More than you think. You need to cool it."

"I had thought you might be more upset." Joan spits back. "Does this sound somehow okay to you?"

"Well I'm not exactly..." His brows are furrowed. He heaves a sigh. "You know what? Get out of here kid."

Carol glances at him, and then her mother, and them him again, conflicted now.

"If you're not gonna bother to trying acting like her -"

"Joanie, yah're pissed. I get it, the kid gets it, half the damn mansions probably got it by now, yah need ta _cool it_ , an' we need ta talk. Kid, get out of here."

Heart racing, tears flowing, frustration welling up and settling like a bomb in her belly, Carol darts out the door like a frightened animal.

Her mother's words are echoing in her head. Over and over. _Reign you in - wild child - grandmother was right..._

 _Grandmother was right._

Well fine. Apparently she was never fooling anybody anyway. She stalks down the hallway and back to the girls dorm. Thankfully nobody is in there; classes won't officially let out for another twenty minutes or so. Carol tears out her earrings, slips off the ring her grandmother had passed down to her, pulls off the little gold necklace her mother bought her a year ago - the chain breaks with a satisfying 'snap'. Reaches inside the duffle bag beneath her bed and slips out the debit card her mother had helped her obtain - it contains all her savings from fighting in the Warehouse, a considerable stock.

And now she knows exactly what she's gonna do with it.

...

The door slams shut so hard there's an audible crack as the door frame cracks a bit. Logan sighs. Someone needs to teach that girl to be more aware of her own not-inconsiderable strength. Really, someone needs to teach that girl a lot of things she just clearly doesn't know about being what she is, and the thought twists his insides. He should've been there to teach her long ago.

Joan stalks over, shoulders slumped now, and collapses to sit on the edge of her bed, hunched in on herself in such a way that she looks older than she ought to, and tired. So tired. Maybe now isn't the time for this conversation, after all, and he quietly says as much himself.

"No." She says quickly, before he can even make it to the door. "No, Logan, stay, please, you're right. We have to talk. Carol is...Carol has always been a bit more than I can handle. I've tried, so hard, but clearly I failed."

"Well." He blows out a breath. "Truth is, we both dropped the ball here in a lot of different ways. But we're not gonna do her any good by just sittin' around feelin' guilty over it."

"I know." Joan scrubs her hands over her face. "I'm just out of ideas. She barely talks to me anymore, won't trust me, and then she goes and pulls a stunt like this, and I didn't even know this was at all like her until recently. I don't know my own daughter anymore."

Logan runs a hand over the stubble that generously coats his cheeks and chin, thinking now. "You know, maybe..." But he never gets to finish the thought, because a sound he knows all too well reaches his feral ears and steals all of his attention away.

"Logan?" Joan questions, worried now. "What's wrong?"

"My 'bike. That - that sounds like my 'bike." But who would dare to..to... "Dammit." He barks, sprinting out of the room.

He knows who it is.

He hadn't realized...he'd underestimated her. He'd underestimated her big time. By the time he gets down to the garage, his old Indian Panhead - the one he'd personally restored and decked out with a superior engine - his baby - is gone. "Oh. You sneaky little brat." He mutters, running an incredulous hand through his hair. "Jesus, you got some brass, kid, I'll give yah that. I told Jack not to go teachin' yah..." Laughter escapes his lips as he turns to wander back inside and up to his room. She'd have had to slip into it and steal the keys herself, and sure enough, the doors wide open when he makes it there, and there's a cigar missing along with his keys. He'd never locked the room before, never needed to. None of the other kids would dare to do something like this. Only his daughter. Is it bad that he's more impressed than angry?

This kid..this kid is goin' places. Maybe nowhere good. But she's goin' places.

...

She hates hair salons. They always smell of so many chemicals; she's been here maybe twenty minutes and she's already got a headache.

The hairstylists smiles brightly as she runs her hands through Carol's hair. "My goodness, there's so much of it, and so soft too! So it's just a trim your wanting, I'd suppose? Clean up the split ends a bit?"

Carol shakes her head and brings a hand up to where she actually wants it.

The stylists eyebrows shoot sky high. "All of it?"

"All of it."

"Oh. Are you sure?"

"Yeah, lady, I'm sure."

"Well...alright, I suppose." And though it looks as though it pains the woman, snip goes the scissors.

Carol smiles as the chunks of unruly brunette waves drop down to litter the floor around her. This...this feels like freedom.

...

She's sitting in the parking lot of a burger place sometime later, puffing contentedly on one of His cigars, when her cellphone rings some three hours later. It's Him. Joan must've put the number in Carol's phone at some point. She huffs, but decides to answer. At least it isn't her mother.

"Tell Ma to relax. I ain't dead or dyin'. Hey, is that even possible for us?"

"Trust me, kid, yah don't want ta test that out." Logan's gruff baritone replies, sounding oddly unpreturbed. "You plannin' to head home sometime today, or...?"

Carol answers with a put upon sigh. "If I have to. Is my Ma still pissed?"

"Like you wouldn't believe, but yah know, yah did that to yahrself, I ain't feelin' much in a sympathetic mood."

"Eh. She'll live."

His voice becomes a commanding half-growl. "Look, it's not a suggestion kid. Get yahr little ass home. And there better not be a single scratch on my baby when yah get here."

Carol rolls her eyes. "C'mon, old man. I got respect enough for the 'bike, at least."

...

"Hey! What the hell?"

Carol's too busy frantically looking the 'bike over to make sure she hadn't banged it up. It doesn't look like...but she'll be in such big trouble if there is...

To be fair to Carol, the road had given way to a sharp turn, and she honestly hadn't seen the stupid little Prius until it was just ahead of her. To also be fair to the other driver, Carol had been going well over the posted speed limit in her haste to get back before she'd be in 'you-broke-curfew' amounts of trouble. And to be fair from the perspective of anyone who doesn't own a powder blue Prius..anyone driving that car probably deserved the scare. What kind of person even buys a car like that, anyway?

The answer to that question is stalking towards Carol with a thunderous expression that might prove intimidating to anyone else. Carol isn't much bothered now she's confirmed that the motorcycle is fine.

The owner of the Prius, on the other hand... Just Carol's luck they'd be heading the same place.

Tall. Natural red hair. Green eyes. Flawless skin save for the light orange freckles splashed across her nose. Wearing skin tight skinny jeans and lace trimmed pink blouse. Carol hates her already, but throws up her hands in surrender. "Hey, sorry, it's..totally my fault, didn't realize-"

"My back doors got a dent the size of Texas, your lucky I was able to drive away after hitting that tree!"

"Hey, it's fine, I can pay for the car, princess -"

"Yeah, maybe next time just watch where you're going on that death trap, instead!" The redhead barks back.

"Yeah, ok, just take it easy -"

"Carol? Sarah?" Ororo. She's just entered the garage and is coming towards them, looking thoroughly confused. "Girls, what's going on?"

Carol glances at the redhead - Sarah - and rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. "I..got a little carried away headin' up the road, is all, and -"

"She nearly ran me _off_ the road." Sarah interjects. "Must've been doing at least ninety, what do you have, a death wish?"

"You keep screechin' at me like that, princess, I just might."

"Excuse me." Sarah snaps.

"Enough." Ororo says firmly. "Carol," she pauses, looking Carol over finally and with some clear confusion, "just get inside, your mother's worried and Logan is too."

Carol grabs the backpack that had been strapped firmly to the 'bike and slips it on, hardly taking her eyes off Sarah, who's eyeing her as well.

"Pansy ass car like that, you were askin' fer it anyway." Carol grumbles.

"Who do you think you are anyway, new girl?" The redhead barks back.

"Girls." Oror snaps, clearly exasperated.

Carol runs a hand through her hair. "I'm goin'. Sorry, Ms. Munroe." She stalks off across the garage with hands stuffed in the pockets of oversized blue jeans, even as she can feel the redheads eyes still boring into her.

Well. She was bound to make an enemy sometime.

...

"Your..your hair." Her mother looks more exhausted than angry, and her eyes go wide as dinner plates as realization sets in.

Carol scoops the brunette waves up back behind her ear. She'd always wanted to do this. There's so much of the stuff atop her head, washing it had always been a pain. But her grandmother had insisted...well, not anymore. The mop that had once reached over halfway down her back now barely reaches her shoulders.

"You - you could've at least warned me." Her mother goes on, fretful now.

Carol just shrugs.

"And the clothes?"

"Looked more comfortable."

"You look like - like a _hoodlum_."

Carol raises an eyebrow and snorts. She's wearing flannel and blue jeans. Aside from being a little oversized, the look is... well, not much different from the one Logan's usually sporting, and no one seems to have a problem with that. She sure as hell did not do that on purpose, by the way. "Gee. Thanks, Ma. Look, I'm - I'm sorry I ran off. I'm here, I'm okay, I'll go to bed now like a good little girl."

"Carol. For heaven's sake, will you just talk to me?"

Carol closes her eyes, blows out a breath, and...and comes to a decision. "Jamie."

"What?"

"Jamie. That's what all my actual friends back home called me." She crosses her arms. "I hate Carol and you know it so why do you have to call me that?"

"Well - I just - your grandmother -"

"Is a crusty, mean old hag who literally only likes people if she can control them like puppets. I'll be eighteen in less than a year and she hasn't controlled me like that in a while anyway." She meets her mother eyes. "My names Jamie."

The older woman nods. "Yeah. Ok. Your names Jamie. Anything else I should know while we're at it, or can we be done with the surprises for now? I love you to bits, daughter mine, but you're gonna give me gray hairs."

"...gonna? Uh, hate to break it to yah, old woman..."

There's a smile already tugging at her mother's lips. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."

Jamie rolls her eyes and shuffles across the room, throwing her arms around the older woman's shoulders. "Look, I just..I screwed up and I'm super sorry but I'm so done pretending, Mom, it's exhausting."

Slender fingers run themselves through Carol's much shorter hair. "Okay. Then stop pretending, and I'll try to be understanding of things. Not another stunt like this one, though." She pulls back and takes Carol by the shoulders, pinning her with a hard stare. "You're not eighteen yet and this place has rules. Behave."

Jamie nods readily, sincere. "Yes, Mom."

"And be more respectful towards your -," Joan catches herself just in time, "towards Logan. He means well, I promise."

"If I have ta." Jamie huffs and picks her backpack up from where she'd dropped it near the door.

"And is that one of his cigars you stole? I'd know that smell anywhere and so help me Carol James Fletcher, if I smell it on you again..."

Jamie pretends not to have heard her as she stalks off down the hallway.

...

"Ah. You gonna..say somethin'? Or...?" Jamie raises an eyebrow at the girl sat on the bed just next to hers.

It's Tash, of course, who's got arms crossed and a thinking face on.

"I mean, ah, I didn't think I looked that scary." Jamie jokes.

Tash's face screws up kinda funny. "Actually, I'm now pretty well convinced you could be wearing a trash bag and you'd still be hot. I think I hate you."

Incredulous laughter is all that Jamie can manage in response. "Aww, c'mon, that's a lie, yah couldn't hate me if yah tried!"

"...ok, I totally couldn't, but the point still stands!"

...

"Hey! Carol! Carol...? Wait, is that you?"

Jamie's frozen. She can't make her legs move. She wants to run away but she just..she can't. Because he's coming towards her and she knows this feeling. Her hearts pounding a mile a minute, her palms are sweaty, there's _butterflies_ in her stomach for crying out loud! She's done this before. She knows this feeling and isn't ready to do it again, not really, not even if he were available, but Wild Thing holds her in place. _Stupid. Talk to future-mate._

For a moment everything around her seems to move along in slow motion. She can hardly even breathe as she's so busy trying to push Wild Thing back, back, back. He's not 'future-mate', he's taken, and they're only seventeen besides.

"Carol? What happened to your... I mean... You look..."

But the sound of her name and the strange sight he presents is enough to pull her back to reality. She snorts, trying for derisive. "Speak for yourself."

He stares at her blankly for a moment, as though he really doesn't understand, and then... "Oh!" He glances down at his own hands awkwardly. They're pale and thin and there's not a tuft of fur in sight. In fact, there's not a tuft of fur in sight on the rest of him, either, and he's looking far too scrawny for her liking to boot . "Right. Ahah. It's - a test run. For something. Hel-helping my dad out, that's all."

Wild Thing cringes, retreating quickly and willingly back into her cage. _Wrong. Not future-mate now. Go ahead and run._

Jamie huffs a growl at herself, then glances at him. "Playing guinea pig. Gotta earn that cash somehow, huh? Bet your girlfriends proud." She answers, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now if you'll excuse me, McCoy, I've got a class to get to." She slips around him.

He follows. "Now wait just - Carol, look, I know I haven't been around so much the past few weeks, I'm sorry."

"Jamie."

"What?"

"My name. It's Jamie. And why should I care where you've been, McCoy?"

"Jamie." He tests the name out and nods once. "Right. Er - I mean, you shouldn't I guess, I just, I know - I mean..."

"You got somethin' to say, just spit it out already, dude."

He strides ahead a few paces and stops her in her tracks again. "I've been a terrible friend and I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

Wild Thing peeks back out from hiding. _Sounds like future-mate though._

Jamie looks up into his eyes and knows instantly that she can't not forgive him. "Yeah. Sure." A pause. She runs a hand through her hair. "Ah, anythin' else you wanna get outta yahr system before we move on?"

He looks her over. "Hmmm. The hair. Yeah, it's definitely mostly just the hair."

She rolls her eyes. "What is it with everyone and the hair?"

"I mean...if a little bit butch is what you were goin' for..."

She hits his arm. Hard.

"Hey! Ow! God! Watch those guns of yours, will yah, they pack a punch!" But he's actually laughing.

She rolls her eyes at him, playful. "Yeah, well. Now we're even, yah wimp."

...

She sees Him and her Mom talking.

She smells the cigars He smokes on her mother, as if the older woman has been joining Him outside when He slips out to have one.

She knows where the extra money must've come from when her mother takes her shopping again.

None of these things bother her really. Well, they do a little. But they're forgivable.

The night her mother disappears - ostensibly with Him, since no one sees hide or tail of Him either - and sleeps til noon the next day...the way she finally appears when Carol comes to check on her, hair a mess and makeup smeared. The stale whiskey she smells of.

Joan Fletcher had never worn red lipstick before, at least not that Carol had ever seen. She also, most certainly, had never drank whiskey.

This...this is not ok.

But Jack says leave it alone, and Carol's growing to respect him. So she tries. She really does.

...

"A bunch of us girls are going out to play basketball." Tash chirrups one afternoon after classes let out, hands up fixing her hair into a ponytail. "You should totally come join us, it's sooo pretty outside today!"

"Basketball. Uh, not really my thing, Tash."

"I know, I know, I can see why, shorty." There are very few people who can get away with teasing Jamie about this particular thing. Tash, somehow, has just managed to worm her way onto that list. "But c'mon, it's all in good fun. Like I said, it's just us girls. Preeetty pleeease?"

Jamie rolls her eyes and huffs out a half-growl and just gives in because resistance is futile, Tash is just too sweet to refuse. "Fine, fine. One game!"

"Yay! C'mon, get ready, lets go!"

It is a beautiful day outside. The suns shining bright and the mid-October chill has disappeared for a day, though the leaves on the many trees around are turning all sorts of lovely shades of orange and red and yellow. Jamie supposes this may not be so bad an idea, after all. There's a decent group of other girls gathered around the court, and the game starts off good-natured enough.

Jamie finds she's pretty good at playing defense, if nothing else, and doesn't mind this at all. The team she and Tash are on even manages to score a three pointer because of her help, winning the game.

"You can't tell me you aren't having fun." Tash says as they stop to catch their breath. "Play again with us?"

"We could really use you actually." "Yeah, those were some pretty decent moves you were pulling, how come you never told us you could play basketball?" A couple of other girls chime in.

"We might have to re-work things a bit, though, one of our girls just got called in to see Ms. Munroe." A girl from the other team informs them.

"I can sit this one out then." Jamie shrugs.

"Or you could let me join in!" A new voice calls out, and all the girls turn to face the newcomer - a tall, bright-eyed redhead.

"Oh, hey Sarah!" "I didn't realize you were back!" "Of course you can play with us!" The other girls fawn over her.

Jamie doesn't realize she's scowling until the redhead - the same girl she'd almost clipped with Logan's 'bike days earlier - comes to face her with hands planted on her hips and a smirk planted on her lips. "Problem, new girl?"

Jamie huffs, but shakes her head. "Nah, no problem. C'mon, lets do this, then, girls!"

The ball is a blur this time around. Jamie can hardly tell what's happening for all that the firebrand is a whirlwind, bouncing her way across the court, long legs bouncing gracefully around the other players. She's playing perfectly fair, too - with everyone else.

The ball gets swiped right out of Jamie's hands three times. Spiked out a fourth as she goes to shoot it at the net - that shot would have made it, too. Falls out the fifth time, mostly because Jamie's thrown clear off her feet, and now, now Wild Things pissed.

"Time the hell out!" She roars, climbing to her feet, fists clenching, not even wincing at the road-rash that's already healing itself over on her arm and leg.

All the girls are already frozen in place. One picks up the ball before it can roll away, but beyond that, scarce a muscle is moved. They're gazes dance between Jamie and Sarah, unsure of what's even going on.

Jamie barely notices the sudden silence. Her hearts pounding in her ears and Wild Thing is begging to hear a _bone break_ and...and...

And Tash is standing a little ways behind Red, eyes wide, mouth quietly forming the words 'Jamie, don't!'

Dammit. Jamie closes her eyes and counts. Slowly. 1..2..3..4..5.. Her fists unclench themselves as she beats Wild Thing back with a mental cattle prod. "Ahkay. Yah feel better, now?"

"What?" The redhead asks, confused. Or at least, pretending pretty well. "I was playing the game, new girl, that's all."

Jamie glances around at the other girls. They just look confused, mostly, but the way they had welcomed Sarah into the game earlier suggests that picking a fight with the redhead here wouldn't end well for Jamie.

"Yeah. Sure." Jamie grumbles. "Whatever you say, Barbie doll. Forget this, I'm out, guys!" She pushes past Red and back towards the mansion.

She can feel the pair of big green eyes glaring at her back as she goes. She throws a hand up with a certain finger raised high and just keeps walking.

...

"Hey, I'm so sorry I'm late, it's just I couldn't sleep - sleep last - aw, c'mon!" It comes out in a hurried rush, and Jamie can't help the last exclaimation. She just can't win.

She feels doubly bad for being late because even though it's Saturday, it's a painting lesson with Anna she's late for, and she's come to like Anna. Anna is actually very sweet, and Jamie's finding she has a strange amount in common with the woman. She usually tries extra hard to be on time for their sessions, but last night...

They're two weeks into November now, and Jamie had almost forgotten what day it even was. So much had been going on around her, she'd actually managed to lose track of how much time was passing, but the day before it had hit her like a freight train when her mother (accidentally) mentioned it. Clearly, the whole thing still weighed on the old woman, too, though certainly for very different reasons.

Jamie had, mostly, managed to put it back out of her mind for the day, but trying to find sleep the night before had been a nightmare. And that was before she fell asleep and the _actual_ nightmare started. She'd tossed and turned the whole night, unable to make the images leave her mind - the little red sports car, His corpse slumped against it, and her claws covered in blood. She'd even woken Tash up at one point, and then woken up just earlier to notice holes in her bed sheets from where she'd popped her claws in her sleep.

"Jamie?"

Oh. Right. Anna. "Oh, uhm, sorry, sorry. I just..."

The problem is, Anna wasn't alone. "Oh. Hello, again." It's The Redhead. She blinks at Jamie, looking actually surprised. "This is who your sessions with?" She asks Anna.

"Yep!" Anna chirrups in response. "Babygirl's got some talent too!"

"Huh." Sarah crosses her arms, a sour look contorting her features. "I wouldn't have guessed."

"You..two..know eachother?" Anna asks, clearly confused.

"Oh, I know of her, that's for sure."

"Oh, really? Well, I'm full of surprises." Jamie answers tightly. "I'm just startin' to wonder if you've got any up your sleeve, or if you're actually as full of shit as you seem to be."

The redhead snorts. "You talk awful tough for a girl who looks about twelve."

Jamie's fists clench. A growl rumbles up her throat.

Anna clears her throat. "Sarah, sugah, it was just wonderful to get to visit with yah but Jamie and I have a standin' engagement on Saturdays, maybe we could catch up some more later, peaches."

A smile graces Sarah's pink, too-perfect lips now, relaxed and sweet. "Of course!" She leans in to give Anna a hug and then struts towards Jamie, hips swaying haughtily. "See you around."

"I don't know what that was about." Anna comments once the redhead is out of earshot. "But if your going to pick a fight with a Summers, I'd recommend be _very_ careful about where you do it."

"Thanks, I think." Jamie grumbles. She's too tired to want to deal with this now. "Can we just get to painting please?"

...

Later that day, when she slips back into the girls dorm to grab something, she's heavily surprised to find that someone had changed out her bed sheets for her. The bed is made neatly, sans holes, and if Jamie's not mistaken, they smell just faintly of a certain perfume...

And hidden just beneath the pillow, much to Jamie's delight, is a cigar. Exactly the kind Logan smokes, but Jamie knows whose doing this actually was.

The only question is, how did Anna even know...? And why would the older girl have had one of Logan's cigars?

...

Did she just...did she just see that?

She can't believe it. She won't. That _cannot_ be true. There's no way. Jake is...and she's so...ugh! No! That's just not even right!

But she is seeing it. Jake McCoy, in a serum-induced state of normal, his fur all in hiding, has long arms wrapped firm around Sarah's obnoxiously tiny waist. And they're kissing! Oh, hell no.

Wild Thing fights for half-control, disgusted. If it had been anyone else, maybe she'd have let it go. There's a lot she could forgive, honestly, there is. But not this. Not her. Before Carol can claw her way back to sanity, Wild Thing is storming over to the couple. "You're kidding. Please, tell me you're kidding."

Jake turns halfway to face Jamie, brows furrowed in clear bewilderment. "Erm...hey, Jamie. It's good to see you, too."

"Hey, sorry, yeah, hi. Now, tell me you're kidding."

"I don't understand."

"That makes two of us." Sarah interjects, but she's lying now, Jamie can smell it. "What's your problem, new girl?"

Wild Thing glares, but refuses to be bothered with talking to the firebrand. Instead, she turns to Jake, hands on her hips. "Please, tell me my eyes are somehow playin' tricks on me. This, this snot-nosed little Barbie doll cannot possibly be your girlfriend."

"Hey! Watch it. She is my girlfriend." He looks mostly just confused. "Jamie, this is Sarah Summers. Sarah, this is Jamie."

"Oh, we've met." Sarah replies smoothly.

"Oh. What?" Jake. Still confused.

"So that's what this is about, huh?" Jamie barks as realization dawns at the redhead. "Kids in this place talk too much. Whatever they said, it ain't true. I wouldn't lay a hand on another girl's man, s'not my style."

"Wait, what?" Jake looks at his girlfriend, eyes wide. "You thought - why would you even think that?"

Jamie interjects again before the redhead can answer, smirk playing at her lips now. "Actually, I've usually found that girls who jump to that conclusion tend to be the cheatin' type themselves."

"I didn't hear anything." Sarah answers coolly, crossing her arms. "And I still don't know what you're talking about, new gi- I'm sorry. Jamie?"

"Like hell you don't!" Jamie growls, her frustration growing. "You know, I knew he had a girl already, but I can't imagine what the hell he could possibly be doing with a yuppy like you!"

"Jamie!" Jake barks back at her. "What is the matter with you."

Jamie turns to him. "Can I talk to you? Alone?"

The redhead interjects forcefully before Jake can answer. "We were just on our way out."

"I'll catch you later." Jake promises, scowling at his girlfriend. "I promise."

Sarah pulls him away before Jamie can answer, and Jamie just glares at the redheads back as they go, wanting nothing more than to wipe that smug look off the other girls face via a broken nose.

 _Goddamned overgrown Barbie doll._


	6. Just the Beginning 6

"You ok there?"

It's growing dark outside and the air is chilly. Jamie hadn't been expecting anyone else would be out here. She takes a moment to think on whether she wants to bother responding. Puffs her cigar. Decides Anna's company wouldn't be so bad. Glances back at the older girl. "Yeah... M'fine."

The older girl comes up to sit next to her in the grass. "C'mon, Sugah, yah look like someone just ran over yah puppy. Wanna talk about it?"

Jamie just shrugs.

"She's not always like that." Anna says after a moment more.

Jamie turns to her, eyebrow raised in silent question.

"Sarah. She's not always like that. Or at least, she wasn't always. Most everyone around here really likes her, but I'm not surprised the pair o' yah are just rubbin' each other in all the wrong ways, she's gotten harder to put up with recently."

"Nah, she just thinks I'm after somethin' that belongs to her, that's all." Jamie explains. "S'not true, but..."

"Is it? Not true?" Anna prods, gentler now. "Jake's a nice boy, maybe a little too nice. He'll go awful far out of his way to please that girl, we've all seen it. You wouldn't be the first to wonder if he deserves better."

Jamie scowls. "S'not my place to be wonderin' anythin'. I barely know 'im."

"He wants to get to know you, though." Anna points out reasonably. "And Ah can see why. You're both smart and awful mature for your age."

"Well, clearly he got his priorities straight again. End of story, now. Sides. If it's 'better' he deserves, he still doesn't belong with me, anyway."

"Bullshit."

Jamie looks at the other woman again, eyes wide in surprise.

Anna plows on. "There's ways to go about this fightin' fair, yah know."

"Fightin' fair? Stealin' another girl's man?" Jamie raises an eyebrow again.

"Good Lawd, if you don't look like your father!" Anna laughs, and reaches out a hand lightning quick to snatch the cigar from her fingers. "Alright, so maybe there's no way to fight completely fair, but Ah'm not yahr Mama, Ah'm yah friend, and Ah say fight anyway. Be careful how yah do it, but fight anyway. Sarah Summers has been in desperate need of some kind of whoopin' for a while now, you ask meh. Too much like her father, that girl." She brings the cigar to her lips and actually smokes the thing. "And yah're so much like yahr father, yahr probably the best person to go takin' her down a peg."

Jamie eyes up the casual way the older woman handles the cheap cigar, and remembers something. She's not even thinking about Sarah anymore. "Thank you. For - for earlier. My bed sheets. How'd you know about that, anyway?"

Any amusement fades from Anna's face in an instant. She suddenly looks deeply saddened. "Ah knew that look you had in yah eyes." She says, gentler now. "Nothin' Sarah said or did could've had a girl young as you lookin' so haunted. Ah can't know what yah went through before yah got here, Sugah, but yah should know yah not alone anymore. There's plenty of people here willin' to help yah. Includin' me..and yah father. We'll be here when yah ready." She steals another drag from the cigar and hands it back, planting a sisterly kiss on Jamie's temple, and quietly leaves the younger girl to her thoughts again.

...

 _Logan. About 17 years ago. New York state._

It used to be he enjoyed it, working the cages like this.

These days, he doesn't really start finding enjoyment in anything until he gets down enough whiskey to start his head to feelin' kinda funny. Working the cages, therefore, is only a means to an end now, because his drug of choice is expensive in the amount he needs it, though it is easily obtained.

He shows off a bit, makes it look good, collects what he's earned, and leaves. There's a mutant-friendly hole in the wall not too far away, and the barkeep there never questions it when Logan tells him to leave the bottle three times over. He slams the drinks down in rapid shots, scans the place for the usual barflies, and is rarely left disappointed by the time he's good and drunk.

The routine is always the same, too. Drink, drink, drink until the sharp edges of the world turn pleasantly blurry. Seal the deal with the barfly on his arm by that time, it's never too hard, she's probably drunk too. Take her to the usual cheap ass motel. Drink some more, screw her silly, wake up well before she does in most cases, and head back to the mansion - hopefully before anyone important wakes up and realizes he was gone again...

Get through the day running Danger Room sessions. Rinse and repeat and rinse and repeat and...

Hank warns him. Even with your impressive regenerative capabilities, you're likely not immune to this sort of affliction.

He ignores the good doctor, thinking it'll be like any other time. He figures he'll keep the routine up a while and be ok within a few months. He may not forget her, he never forgets the ones his heart belonged to for a while, but he always manages to move on after a few months.

Except...except this time is different. A few months come and go. And then a few more. And then...

He can't. He can't let it go. Because this time...this time things were different. This time the woman isn't dead. She's very much alive. And to top it off, she's carrying his kit. The more time passes, the more the urge in him grows. He can't..he can't...he needs to go after her...he needs...

He tells himself it's the opposite of selfish, letting her go, but that's a lie from the start. It's easier. It may take longer this time, but he will get over it, and somewhere she'll cut out a corner of the world for her and the kit to live in peace and they'll be safe. He's got a long list of decently dangerous people he's managed to piss off some way or another, and they have a knack for catching him up. If he tracks Joanie down it could just become an endless cycle of him constantly having to defend her and the kit. Which he could do. But doesn't she deserve better? That's what he tells himself to justify it, anyway.

Before he knows it, it's been a whole year. The kids been born by now. Joanie's so far in the wind even he'd have hard time of it trying to track her down. And he's spent so much time in the bottle...

Hank was right. He can't just put it back down again. He's as hooked on the devil juice as he is on the smokes. It's not the first time it's happened, sure, but...

But then there's that one night.

He doesn't remember what happens. He just remembers finally coming to the next morning, still drunk off his ass but beginning to sober up, facing a room full of kids geared up for a Danger Room session. They're all staring at him, wary and unsure, and the professor's giving him a dressing down right in front of them.

Xavier later apologizes for losing his temper as it's hardly something he's prone to doing very often, but doesn't give Logan an option either. And it's understandable. Logan packs up what little things he has and leaves without a fuss. The professor's right. He's become a complete souse, though maybe not a hopeless one. He just needs...

There's over half a dozen empty bottles littering his truck when he gets in it. His first thought at the sight of them is that Joanie would be so disappointed, but this just makes him all the thirstier for more of the stuff.

He gets in his truck and just drives, and proceeds to spend near a decade wandering his way around from cage to cage and drink to drink until he comes across a certain sassy, American Southern runaway...

...

 _Carol James. Present Day. New York state._

Weeks more pass before she's thrown out of the routine she'd settled into - Jack has to leave. Won't say why, and his 'goodbye' is a hurried one. Though, she feels special enough for getting one at all when she wakes the next morning to find that no one else had even known he was gone.

It's not that she doesn't have anyone else. To even think it would seem unfair to Tash and Jake, who have been trying hard to help her feel like she can make a different sort of home out of the mansion. It's just that Jack was the only one she'd managed to get totally comfortable around. With Tash...the friendship is so new, and she doesn't quite understand Jamie the way Jack does. And Jake, well, Jake is trying, but they have to dance around Sarah to get any time together, and it's taxing.

Tash can sense some of Carol's mood swings, sure, and Jake knows what it means to be feral. But Carol can't shake the feeling that she's a little...just, different. She wants to be able to let her guard down around them, but there's too many reasons why she just can't yet.

So she's forced to resign herself for a while.

She starts sneaking down to the Danger Room, late at night when no ones awake. Or, at least, nobody should be awake. Jack had given her access to some higher level simulations, ones he and Logan train with. (They take the safety protocols offline - he keeps them on for Carol and won't accept any arguements to the contrary). She enjoys the workouts, but it lacks something without a partner to spar with. The release just isn't there.

And then one evening...

He must've followed her down. But she never hears him. He's so big, she can't even begin to figure out how he can sneak like he does.

"Not too good at really listenin', are yah? I'm not even tryin' too hard. Might wanna work on that one, kid."

He's startled her so bad that she whirls around, fists already clenching as her claws start to slide their way down, a growl nearly tearing past her lips.

He doesn't seem too worried. Throws up his hands in casual surrender. "Take it easy. I, ah. I just thought maybe yah'd like someone to spar with now Jack's finally bailed out on us."

Blowing out a breath, Carol unclenches her fists, straightens herself up some to study him. "How long've you known?"

"That you've been comin' down here at ungodly hours of the night?" He raises an eyebrow, snorting. "Weeks. You're not bad at sneakin' around, but yah got a long way to go if yah want to get past the Wolverine."

She snorts, scowling. "I have Ms. Munroe's permission..."

"I know you do. Already said, I ain't here to scold yah. Just offerin' some company."

"Why?" She snaps back, feeling petulant.

He only raises an eyebrow. "You want someone to spar with or not?"

She does. She really does, and he's offering so readily... "Yeah. Sure. Why not?"

They slip into the Danger Room. Carol bites at her lip some, fidgeting with her shirt and refusing to really look at Him.

Jesus. She really just does not want to do this.

He clears his throat. "You wanna pull up a scenario, or...? Which ones did Jack show you, anyhow?"

"Couple of the ones he trains with, ones you use too he says."

"He tells me your not bad in a fight."

Carol shrugs. "Not like it's that hard to throw a punch, I guess."

There's a bit of a pause. He looks thoughtful almost. "Well, lets just go then."

She raises an eyebrow at him (God, it mirrors his own expression just perfect and she knows it). "Just...?"

He rolls his shoulders a bit and drops into a basic fighting stance, fists up. "Just come at me. Lets see what you've got, kid."

Carol snorts, feeling an almost angry defiance, though she doesn't know why. She certainly doesn't feel any pressing need to earn his approval...something about his demeanor just has her automatically feeling defensive. LIke she feels when someone dares to use 'half pint' or something like it on her. But she refuses to be baited that easily. "I got nothin' to prove to you, old man."

He shakes his head. "Aw, Jesus - Joanie's right." There's amusement coloring his tone. "Never could'a been a question who's daughter you are. Not with that mouth."

"You've been talkin' to my Ma." Carol observes. There's an edge to her tone. She can't help it.

"Take it easy. She's been comin' to find me to talk. I'm not pushin' for anythin' but you'd know better than anyone what Joanie's like when she wants somethin'."

"Wants something." The anger. Why is she angry? "She never even mentioned your damn name...and now suddenly you think she wants you?"

An there goes the eyebrow again. He doesn't seem too terribly bothered by the warning in Carol's tone. "Look, kid -it's not as simple as you wanna think, alright, it was -"

"No, you look, old man. You don't get to not even really exist to us for like seventeen years and then try to - just - you can't..."

"Can't what?" He's scowling now, as though he's annoyed. "I told you, Joanie came to me, and considering the fact you're here now, I highly doubt my existence was ever in quesiton to her. You talk to her like that, too?"

He keeps calling her - only family calls her mom Joanie, family and real close friends, no one elses uses that name on her mother, damnit Carol's seeing red, how dare he make it sound like...just, how dare he?

With a primal sort of noise that borders on being some sort of growl, Carol tears forward with fists up and swings one right at him. She catches him right in the jaw, hard enough his jaw should break like her fingers do. She barely feels the pain, but does clock the bruise on his scruffy cheek that's already speeding through the process of healing itself, as well as the expression on his face.

Suprise. She's genuinely suprised him. With only confirms her early assumption that he'd been thinking what everyone thinks when they first see her. That she doesn't look like much. And this just makes her all the angrier, though it's entirely irrational.

He's dipped back into his own stance now, too, though. At first her moves are all fueled by nothing but rage and there's very little skill involved, so he's clearly just allowing her to use him as a punching bag because he can take the hits. Once this realization penetrates the fog in her brain, she pulls back some and starts using some of her Warehouse-Big-Ring moves.

A smirk creeps across his face. And now they dance.

The moves she uses are far different from his. She's smaller and has to compensate for what she lacks in height and weight, meaning her hits have to be placed differently. But she recognizes his style, too.

His style...

Oh. Shit. He's fought too. In a cage. Like she has. Oooh. She understands now. The smirk on his lips, that smugness. He's enjoying this.

She comes at him faster, throwing everything she's got into it. Everything. Sweat drips down her face, her clothes are soaking through with it.

"Damn." He grunts, his voice a primal growl. "C'mon then, half pint. Impress me."

She lets the anger over-take her. Wash over her in waves, heat her blood to boiling, send another waterfall of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Pours all the frustration of the last few weeks into one last push at him, raining down a rapid fire flurry of blows to his midsection before finally dipping down in the move that's her absolute favorite - swing a leg out in a roundhouse kick and sweep his knees out from under him. He lands hard, caught of gaurd, the thud of his knees hitting the floor sounding oddly metallic she would remember later. And then she sends her fist flying straight at his nose.

It never makes it.

Breathing heavy, she's stuck for a moment, frozen, totally uncomprehending.

His eyes have flushed with gold to match hers. The smirk is gone. His massive hand sits suspended just before his face, covering her tiny fist. He'd caught her mid-swing, and Jesus, he's strong.

It's not enough to quite penetrate the fog, though. Snarling with rage, she tugs at her own arm, trying to pull free...he shifts, gets to his feet, backs her up until she's against the wall. He towers over her. Absolutely dwarfs her. Could probably snap her body right in half like a twig if he wanted, but he doesn't, of course. He just holds her in place, and to spite the gold still dominating his eyes, he's in perfect control, and his voice is much quieter. A clear command, but a gentle one. "Easy, kitling. That's enough. Come on back, now."

The thing inside her, whatever had just taken over her, it stares up at him, into the gold eyes to which hers are a perfect mirror. And then...and then it retreats, quiet and respectful. Carol relaxes, breathing heavy. "I-I...I'm sorry, I..."

He lets her go, backing up a few steps to give her some space. "Don't apologize. How do you feel now?"

Her thoughts are growing clearer. The anger that had been settled like a bomb in her belly for days on end is finally dispersing. "Better." She murmurs. "I needed that."

"I know."

"Thank you."

"Any time, kid." He meets her eyes; it's a promise.

Shaking her head, she slips past him, and he trails her out of the Danger Room.

"So." Carol says, glancing at him when he keeps pace with her walking down the hallway. "We..going to talk about you and my mom? Or..what?"

He raises an eyebrow at her. The expression suggests he's having a hard time figuring her out. "She was young. I was..well, younger than I am."

"One night stand, then."

"Watch it." His tone is more a warning than the words themselves, as is the hint of annoyance that tinges his scent. "For your information, it was much more than a one night stand."

"Oh, really? She never even told me your name, sounds pretty fling-ish to me."

"I said watch it." His voice lowers this time, becomes an almost-growl. Carol glances sharply at him in return, but doesn't hold his gaze. She has no wish to challenge him again; she's no match for him anyway, and she's exhausted now. He stops them at the elevator leading up stairs, urges her inside, and then hits the emergency stop button, locking them up there. "My brother's always had some screwy ideas in his head and there was an... an incident. It scared Joanie when she realized she was gonna have you, so she ran, and because part of me didn't blame her, I grit my teeth and didn't chase her. Hardest damn decision I ever had to make, spent a long time drinkin' myself stupid and pickin' fights where I didn't need to just to keep her off my mind. Couldn't put the bottle down again, even ended up gettin' my sorry ass kicked out of the Mansion for a long while. Now whether you believe all that or not is your problem, but if you're really mine you'd smell a lie if I was telling it."

She doesn't. Looks up at him, studying him, expression carefully schooled to give none of her mixed emotions away. "Well. Alright then."

He nods, and damned if the look on his face isn't a perfect mirror of the one she knows she's wearing. "Alright then." He starts the elevator again.

Carol turns away, stares ahead at the glossy metal doors for a fraction of a moment as she pulls out her ponytail and rakes nervous fingers through her hair. "...the hell are we even supposed to do with this?"

He blows out a breath, raking his fingers through his hair and down to rub at the back of his neck nervously. "Damned if I know."

The elevator dings, the doors slide open. She steps out casually and wanders off down the hallway.

"...hey, and watch your mouth, will yah, kid?"

She fires back in an instant, not missing a single beat in the silence of the deserted corridor. "Go fuck yourself, old man."

...

They don't touch. The tension is there. The need for it, intense, almost desperate in both of them. But they don't touch, they can't. Not yet. It's been simply too long, so much has happened, Joan isn't a child anymore, Logan had grown so used to being surrounded by people and yet so lonely...they don't know how to do this anymore.

So they just...walk instead. And talk some. Well, at first it was only 'some'. But her tongue had loosened fairly quickly - as it always had - and he couldn't help but to follow her lead. She tells him everything about herself as she is now, all the new things there are to know, about all her boyfriends and the marriage that had ended in disaster. And slowly he finds his own tongue and does the same.

The one thing they can't seem to make themselves talk about, the one thing they flat out avoid, is Logan's mini-me.

The morning after Logan baits the kid into a sparring session, though, he suddenly finds that she's all he wants to talk about.

It's early morning, Saturday. Few of the others occupying the large mansion have even halfway begun to stir yet, which is why it had seemed to perfect time for the pair to go walking.

"It's such a beautiful morning." She murmurs, quiet, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful stillness they're surrounded by.

"Yeah. Almost as beautiful as you. But then, there ain't much that is, so it's still impressive I s'ppose." He answers, straight faced.

She blushes, glancing at him bashfully. "Oh. Hush, you."

He allows a smile to just tug at the corners of his lips. For a moment they keep walking in comfortable silence, but he can't stop thinking about the kid. Something's eating at him, something...well, to hell with it. "Hey. Ah, Joanie, I..."

Brows furrowing, she pauses and turns to look at him, still able to read him like an open book. "What's wrong?"

"We..need..to talk. Erm. About, ah, the kid. About..." It's still so strange to think of her as his, the name she now goes by doesn't want to leave his lips too easy. "About Jamie."

Surprise registers. But she doesn't miss a beat. "Well - alright."

"Thing is." He hesitates, blows out a breath, brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. "Thing is, she's...she's such a fireball."

"I know she's a handful." Joan says, defensiveness creeping into her tone as though she's a little too used to repeating those words back to people.

"Well, that was inevitable." He answers, gentler. "Mean, you should'a seen the kinda hell my brother and I used ta raise...but that's the thing. Vic and I both had our reasons for - for being the way we are. Carol's grown up so different, but...she's got all this rage just the same. I don't get where it comes from."

"I've always figured she's just..young. Feral mutants are known to be a restless bunch." She sounds like she's trying for teasing, but the half-smile that accompanies the words never reaches her eyes.

Logan shakes his head. "That's true, but this is something else. She beat Jack in a cage match, and Jack's sure as hell no lightweight. Held her own against Victor too, albeit not for too long, and one could argue he and I are old and gettin' a little slower. But that still takes more than anything just being feral gave her, her combat skills are too rough. No, she's pissed off at the world over somethin', and I'm worried..."

"Logan. Just come out with it."

He scowls. "Hey - you know, you never called me that. Before."

She sighs, sounding exasperated. "That was before. Logan is what most everyone else called you, what everyone here calls you now. So Logan you are. Now, what about my daughter has you worried?"

He winces. My daughter. There's a wall there now, and he's afraid he'll never be able to break it down. Worse, he's afraid he'll never fully be worthy of it again. But that's a different discussion, and it can wait. "Tell me more about her stepfather." He decides on a different approach, and is careful to keep any of his personal feelings on the matter out of his tone of voice. "You said he disappeared, what happened there?"

"Well..." She bites at her lip, fretful. "Truthfully, that's something that's been a bother to me for some time as well. He did disappear, quite abruptly. At first we thought he'd just been driving drunk, took a wrong turn down some back road or something. He was a city boy and was terrible at navigating to begin with. But I have to admit that never sat right with me. They did find his car sometime later, sunk in a river, but no body. So the presumption was that he was running from something. But I can't imagine what he'd have been running from, and he wouldn't have just ghosted us like that, not if what happened that night is anything to..." She trails off oddly, as though she'd startled herself by saying too much. "...well, just, he wasn't about to just let me go."

But the way she avoids eye contact now tells Logan all he needs to know. "So we know he's dead?" He asks, fighting a bit to keep his tone under control and school his expression even as his animal howls with rage at the implications, the thought of anyone laying a hand on his mate in such a way, and then guilt washes out all else because what had Logan himself been doing at the time? Wandering aimlessly through Canada with a bottle constantly in one hand and a barfly's ass in the other, that's what.

"Yes." Joan answers, blissfully oblivious. "Officially he's just kind of in the wind, but I know he's dead. He must be."

Good, Logan thinks, that'll save me the hassle of finishing that job off myself. "So Jamie. How did all that affect her, then?"

"Well, I'm not sure, I mean she..." Joan's brows furrow. "She found me that night, after...she came in and saw me a mess. I'd wanted a divorce, she saw the papers on the table. She hated him to start. The pair never got along, I feel terrible for that now more than ever. She tried to warn me. Her instincts were telling her what bad news he was, she could smell the vodka always on his breath, but couldn't explain that to me without telling me about her mutation I suppose, and she was too afraid to at the time. She was only fourteen, God, I wish I'd listened to her."

"Hey." Logan can't help this time. An almost growl rumbles beneath the words. "Don't, Joanie. It ain't your fault, and I don't think she blames you." She scrubs a tear away, takes a breath, nods. He plows on. "But this may be more important than you realize. What else happened that night?"

Joan closes her eyes. "Oooh, it's a bit of a blur from there on out, I'm afraid. Carol stormed back out the door without another word and I was in such a state I just...I downed nearly a whole bottle of wine. She came back...oh, at some point that night. I don't recall much else until she woke me up again later that next morning, telling me she'd fixed breakfast."

"So you don't know when she came back that night, then?" Logan prods. There's a theory beginning to form itself there. A nasty theory.

"Well, no."

"And you're certain the bastard that beat you is dead?"

"I feel it in my bones, if I'm honest. Yes. He's dead. I'm not sure where Carol went that night. She's always been good at making friends in pretty low places, she'd already come home high on multiple occasions, had me worried sick about it all the time, she could've been off doing any number of things."

"Didn't you ever ask her?"

"Well, yes, many times." Joan shrugs. "But her answer was always the same. She was at a friends. Even admitted to getting high that night, but she insists she never saw him."

Silence. Logan starts walking again, tugging a cigar out of his jacket pocket and clenching it up between his teeth to chew it thoughtfully. Joan keeps pace with him, her expression a fretful mix of down turned lips and furrowed brows. "You think...you think she did see him?" She asks at length.

Logan takes his time answering, choosing his words with care before he snatches the cigar out of his mouth. "I think she loves her mother to a fault and is extremely protective. It doesn't seem like her, even from what little I know of her, to just leave you like that. Not just to run off and get high. She may have been telling a half truth, but..but she left something out. I'd bet on it. She knows what happened to him.'"

"She was different. After that night. Something about her was... Something behind her eyes had changed, and I never could put my finger on what. Or..maybe I just never wanted to identify it. I don't..."

"I'll do the asking, if you want." Logan offers. "I'm already the bad guy, it ain't like things could get worse there."

"No." Joan shuts that idea down quick. "No, I'll ask her. This is my battle, and I should've fought it long ago. I've put if off long enough."

He only nods in response. He lights the cigar, and they continue walking in thoughtful silence.

...

"Jamie."

"Hey Ma!" Jamie chimes, happy, her eyes full of a playful light. She's in the rec room, crowded around a Foosball table with some other students, including Dr. McCoy's spitting image of a son. The game seems to be a rousing one.

Joan hesitates. She doesn't want to do this to her daughter, especially when she looks so free for once, but this can't wait any longer. It just...can't. "Come walk with me, sweetheart. We need to talk."

Jamie's smile fades, but only a little. "Ugh. Four scariest words in the English language, I swear to God." She jokes a bit to her friends, who all laugh and jeer at her good naturedly. "See yah guys later, then!" The seventeen year old bounces over and loops an arm through her mothers. "Ok. What's up, Ma?"

She's never seen her daughter this way. Confident and so relaxed, like someone finally found the 'attitude' switch inside her hard head and was kind enough to turn it to 'off'. "I love you, my Munchkin. No matter what, you know that, right?"

Jamie's brows crease in worry. "Well - yeah, Ma, I know that." She wraps her arms around the older womans shoulders. "I love you, too, you're the best. Is something wrong?"

Joan leads the girl to grab a jacket and then outside, into the chilly evening air of a mid November afternoon, and keeps them walking so they won't be overheard. "I'm - I've got to ask you something. You're not gonna want to answer but...but I need to know, Jamie."

Jamie tenses. Visibly. Her eyes lose the playful light in them, grow harder, wary. "Mom..."

"I've put it off long enough."

"Please don't tell me..."

"It's just, I'm not the only one that's noticed now, how off the whole thing was."

"Mother." Her daughters voice lowers in a way that anyone else might find dangerous. "You bring this up every year at least once, and the anwsers still the same, I don't know what you -"

"Carol James!" Joan snaps. Really snaps. Barks. "I want you to tell me the absolute truth for once in your short life. I know it eats at you, it must if I didn't even have to explain for you to know what I was getting at. What happened that night?"

"I told you. I've told you like a hundred times. I was with T. We got high, I came home and found you passed out, I threw a blanket over you and then went to my room. End of story."

"But...but I got a text later that night. I don't remember anything past..but I know I got that text."

Jamie's tone grows angrier. "I told you, I never sent any-!"

"Jamie!" Joan cuts her off, raising her own voice. "Stop. You're lying and I know it, you've lied about so many other things. You promised me you'd start telling the truth!"

Tears. Just two of them. They trail a singular track down each of Jamie's cheeks. "I wasn't...I just, I wasn't sure either of us was ready for this." She shakes her head. "But fine. I guess you're right anyway. He was at that old bar he liked to go to. The, ah, the one just up the road from where he crashed your car that time. I knew that's where he'd be. So, so I went there to..." Here she shrugs. "Hell. I don't know what I was thinkin'. But I waited until the place closed and he came stumblin' out. He was drunk. Really, stupidly drunk, and he, uhm. He pulled a knife on me." She won't look her mother in the eye. She's stuttering some, but her voice ultimately remains steady. "So - so it was self defense. That's all."

Joan's blood runs cold. Her heart skips a beat, and her throat closes up as though she'd just swallowed drain cleaner. She can't speak anymore.

Jamie plows on. "I really was with T that night. She brought me out there. And don't..don't go blamin' her for any of it. I told her what he'd done to you, that's all, she understood I had to do this myself. I just wasn't expecting it to end the way it did. But the way his stomach was all tore up - the wounds wouldn't have matched any kind of knife or other weapon. They might've found out what I am and then...I was scared, that's all. So I called T back and she came and helped me clean it up and just, fix it I guess. Gave me some pills to slip to you, you made that part easier cause you were passed out cold when I came home." Now she looks Joan in the eye, and there's a hardness behind hers that makes her look far older than her seventeen years. God, it makes her look like her father. "I'm sorry, for that part. The way I covered it up, I'm sorry I did that to you, I really am, but I'm not sorry about him. He..he had it coming. One way or another, I know he had it coming."

Joan just shakes her head. Her first thought is that her daughter is absolutely right. Her second thought is that this is the most genuinely screwed up answer she could ever have imagined getting from her daughter. And any thoughts after that...

"Ma." Jamie's voice wavers this time, just a bit. "Say somethin'. Please. Anything."

But Joan...Joan has nothing to say. Nothing. She brings a hand up to brush it tenderly against her daughters cheek, shakes her head, and walks away.

...

Jamie's off in the woods again. Logan finds her a couple hours later, long after they'd all watch Joanie slip out to her car and leave (without saying a single word to anyone). She's sat with her back to a tree, smoking a cigar she'd obviously stolen from him, but he's not even angry. She isn't generally prone to such low levels of basic teenage delinquency as stealing like that. She's feeling reckless for a reason, and that's what worries him.

Her eyes are speckled with gold. He takes in a breath and pulls the Wolverine a good ways to the surface, enough that she'll sense him. Not to intimidate this time, but to put them on equal terms. He wants nothing more than for her to understand that he'll understand.

"Your Ma's gone."

"Mm." A grunt. That's all the acknowledgement she gives.

"It's gettin' dark."

"Mm." Her animal is floating too close to the surface.

"And it's gonna rain. You should get inside, kid."

Just a shrug this time.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Fuck no." Well. At least she's using her words.

"Yah just gotta give her time."

"Yeah. Time to figure how much she hates me."

He rolls his eyes. "If there was one thing I ever knew about your mother, it's that the woman doesn't have a mean bone in her body. She wouldn't know how to hate someone even if they deserved it." He points at her when her mouth opens as if to reply. "Which you don't. So stop thinkin' it."

"How do you know?" Her tone is petulent.

He scrubs a hand over the stubble that generously coats his cheeks and chin, praying for patience on the off chance there's a god listening that cares (not that he thinks it's likely). "Tell me what happened." He demands instead of answering. "I mean, you killed him." She winces. But with this kind of thing there's just no point in trying to sugar coat shit. "Sounds like he deserved it but that probably doesn't make you feel that much better. Was it an accident?"

She shrugs. "Maybe kind of. I mean. I hadn't intended to..to do it. He was just, a pretty big guy, and really drunk."

"So he was a threat."

"I mean, once he pulled the knife on me, yeah. He was decently a threat... or, I mean, he would've been definitely a threat to anyone else."

Wolverine takes further control at what she's implying. "Mm. Having our gift doesn't change the facts. He he had a weapon. Yah weren't expectin' it. He was big. You were a pup. He became a threat. You defended yerself."

Silence for a moment, and then she scowls. "Gifts? Who decided that? To call them gifts? The idiot who first said that clearly didn't know what the hell he was talkin' about."

A voice echoes in his head. Joanie's voice. You're not an animal, James. His gruff old heart is cracking, but he schools his expression with care and allows the Wolverine to remain in more control. "Without them you might very well have been killed by your stepfather." He says quietly. "Bein' able to survive like that don't always feel like a gift, I know. Trust me, I know. But really, whether it is or not...it depends on what you make of it, that's all."

She sniffles. He smells the salty tears gathering in her eyes; she turns away quickly and puts the near-forgotten cigar out against the tree behind her to cover it. "You know what's the worst? I don't even remember it. I just remember seein' the knife. And I could feel my heart poundin' and my ears were ringin' and I was just so scared and angry, I like, blacked out I guess. And then...and then when I came to he was slumped against that stupid little sports of car of his and there was blood everywhere."

"Sounds like something to be thankful for, if you ask me." Logan points out.

"I mean, part of me is. But part of me feels like..." She trails off, raking a hand through her hair. The gold in her eyes fades some.

Realization dawns instantly. Logan finishes it for her gently. "Like you deserve to have the memory. As punishment."

"Yeah. Somethin' like that, I guess."

"The universe may not be so kind the next time things get a little messy. Just be thankful it cut you some slack that time."

She nods, and swipes an arm over her cheeks. Takes a breath. "Did..did my Mom say where she was going?"

"No. But she's only been gone just over an hour, I'm not worried yet. Let her sort herself out."

Thunder. It's been rumbling distantly for at least an hour but now it rolls across the sky just above them, accompanied by a flash of lightning.

Logan holds out a hand to help the kid up. She seems to contemplate him a moment, but excepts it. He reaches out to pluck a twig out of her hair, raising an eyebrow.

She shrugs. "I ran for a while."

He laughs. "C'mon. You hungry?"

"Honestly? I'm starving."

"I know just where to go."

...

"So where'd you learn to fight like that?"

They're at a diner now, a greasy spoon of a place that serves burgers that are near as big as Jamie's head. "Friend taught me." She shrugs it off, popping a french fry into her mouth.

"Uh-huh. And, ah, just where would a rich girl like you be going to make friends like that?"

She rolls her eyes. "Anywhere that wasn't home at the time. Not that it's your business."

"Fair enough." He he goes back to munching on his own food, but continues with a more conversational tone. "It's just I think I recognized a few of those moves you were pulling."

"Hm."

"In fact, some years ago I think I fought a guy up in Canada that had the same style. He was just a kid then, prob'bly your age, he'd be almost thirty now. Looked Native as hell. Mohawk, tattoos."

Jamie's brows furrow. "In a cage. Your were fighting cage matches."

There's a smirk pulling at Logan's lips now. That eyebrow raises. "And now my only questions is, does your mother have any idea that's what you were doing?"

"I-I..she..she knows, I mean..."

"That's a no."

"Well, no, she knows. I just..might've made a promise there that I..." She brings a hand up to rub at the back of her neck.

"Ain't too sure yah'll keep?" Look chuckles. "Can't say I'd blame you. Anyway, she can't be makin' that big a deal out of it, ain't she told yah yet how she met me?" (A little voice in the back of his head whispers that it's a huge fucking deal because she's just a pup and he'd had no part in bringing her up but god she's so much like him, so much, too much, she needs guidance but won't accept it what is he supposed to do with this?)

He has no idea, but he knows what he won't be doing. He won't be running away again.

She only shakes her head.

He rolls his eyes, still not missing a beat. "Right. Course not. Well, we only met because she snuck out of the house with a bunch of other girls to this place called the Warehouse. God knows what the hell they thought they were doin'. She got seperated somehow, ended up surrounded by a bunch of dirtbags who just wouldn't let her alone. Tryin' to shove drinks down her throat. I went over and told them to take a hike and, well...don't know what the hell she really saw in me. But she saw somethin', cause here we are."

Laughter. Peals of it. It bubbles up her throat and she just can't hold back.

"What the hell's so funny?"

"The Warehouse? My Mom...met you...at the warehouse...where you were fighting in the cages?"

"Yeah. I mean, s'not the most romantic story ever told, but..."

"No, but..but that's where I've been going! Like two or three times a week for three years. Freakin' A, dude. Seriously. That's great."

Logan's eyebrows shoot up. "The Warehouse? That's where you've been..."

Jamie just shrugs.

"Well. That explains some things." (Explains her rough-n-ready fighting style and attitude and partly that mean look she can get in her eyes and fuck, he needs to do something, needs to make sure she -)

"I just wish I could find someplace like that down here." She laments.

"Aw, c'mon, kid. Yah got it made over at the school here, don't yah? Why would yah wanna go lookin' for that kinda trouble now?"

"It's boring as hell!" She fires back. "We're barely allowed to go anywhere without a literal babysitter."

"Things down here aren't the same as where you lived up north, kid." He tries to explain. "A lots happened down here in the past decade or so and not everyones as willing to be friendly to folks like us who are a little different. 'Ro keeps a tight leash on you guys cause she just doesn't want anythin' happening to you."

"Yeah, well, I still ain't like the rest of them over there." Jamie answers, hard now. "I can watch my own back just fine."

That's a little too true. It dawns on Logan just suddenly. Joanie's smart, but a little scatter brained, and always had a tendency to be a little too trusting. She wanted to believe everyone was basically decent at heart and clearly hadn't given up on that even after being beaten by the man she'd married.

The kid could probably absolutely watch her own back well enough. She'd been watching her own back and her mother's for years already.

"Here's the thing." He starts, trying harder than usual to choose his words. "You need someone to be pissed off at, be pissed off at me. I should've chased yahr ma down, I easily could've, but I didn't. Yah got every right to hate me for that. But you don't have to watch yahr own back anymore. You've got friends for that and people like 'Ro. Don't go keepin' all the wrong people at arms length just because that's what yahr used to doing. Yah're too young to be headin' where that'll lead yah in life."

She sits back in her seat and crosses her arms, thinking maybe, studying him. "Why did you? Just let my ma go?"

The truth hurts. He decides to give it to her anyway. "I was...I was scared as she was. With decently good reason, but not good enough. I ran away with my tail between my legs, kid. That's all there is to it."

She nods, as though she suspected this would be the answer. Kids smarter than she pretends to be. "You tell her that?"

"Ah." He trails a hand up to rake it through his hair, sheepish now. "Conversation hasn't come up yet."

Jamie snorts. "Stop to think maybe you should've brought it up by now, old man?"

He sighs. "Cut it out, kid. It's not your job."

"What?"

"Protecting her. Watching her back like that. S'not your job. It never should've been."

"Yeah. Well. Someone had to do it."

I'm sorry, kid. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm... The words won't leave his lips. It won't do him any good and he knows it and he doesn't deserve her forgiveness anyways. "Well that someone doesn't have to be you anymore. Yahr free now, kid, and Joanie worries about you. I know it's a hard concept to suddenly get used to, but try."

She nods, and goes back to picking at her probably cold french fries. "Hates a strong word." She says quietly after a moment. "I hated my step-father and Wild Thing gutted him like a fish." Logan winces, but she goes on just casually. "You never seemed worth it to hate. I mean..I'm not tryin' to be nasty, it's just facts. You don't seem worth hating because you never did anything to me and Ma 'n I survived just fine on our own. And you're right. I love Ma to death but it's not my job to protect her. You wouldn't hurt her like my step-father did, I can tell that much, so do what you want, old man, the rest is up to her."

He has so many more things to say. But she won't want to hear any of them, so he just shrugs. "Fair 'nough."

They don't do much more talking after that.

...

"Hey, 'Ro. Got a minute?"

"Of course. What's on your mind, Logan?"

Logan brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. "I think...you should ask Jamie about joinin' the X-Men."

Ororo freezes for a moment, staring at him incredulously. "You're..actually suggesting...? She'd make an excellent fit, I think, I just wasn't sure you'd approve."

"S'not my place to approve or disapprove of anything she does. I had no part in bringing her up. I'm just sayin' the girls gotta get better at playin' well with others. Joanie says she's too much like me, but she's young and can still learn. I think it'd be good for her."

"Her mother thinks so too. Interestingly enough, I just spoke with Joan about how best to approach your daughter with the idea."

"Good. I'd..just do it soon, if I were you. Kids gettin' restless."

"I'll keep that in mind. And Logan." She stops him before he can slip away. "She is your daughter. If she's open minded enough to be talking to you at all..well, I'd say that's a good sign. Don't give up hope. You've paid your penance, after all, a few times over I'd say."

"I gave up hopin' for good things a long time ago, 'Ro." He answers quietly. "I'm just tryin' not to screw things up any further. Let me know what the kid says. I'm..gonna disappear for a few days. Got some things to think through." The deal for some time has been that he can do this whenever he wants, as long as he lets 'Ro know first.

Ororo looks like she desperately wants to say something...but comes up and just plants a sisterly kiss on his cheek. "Don't be gone too long, this time."


	7. Just the Beginning 7

"So...hold up a minute, you want me to be..."

"You'd have to go through all the usual training, or at least start it anyway. We know you can fight already."

"Sarah Summers is already training to be team leader, isn't she?"

"Well..yes, but..."

"Then no." Jamie says, with a tone that suggests the decision is final.

Joan and Ororo exchange a look of vague exasperation.

Joan sighs. "Sarah's a nice enough girl around everyone else. What's going on between you two, anyway?"

Jamie scowls. "She's a yuppy Barbie Doll! And she's had it out for me ever since she found out I was friends with her boyfriend. Just friends! There's no way in hell I'm about to let her boss me around."

Ororo crosses her arms, almost smug. "You'd be training along side my son as well."

That seems to get Jamie thinking. "Oh. Well. Really?"

"Mmhmm. Actually, he's even asked me before whether I planned to bring the idea up to you. He seems to really like you, and has been quite upset about Sarah's initial behavior towards you. I happen to know that you're training with the pair of them would likely be the perfect way to get under her 'Barbie Doll' skin."

Jamie blows out a breath, raking a hand through her short mane of brunette waves. "Alright. Fine. Guess I got nothin' better to do anyway."

Not at all bothered by Jamie's sass, Ororo smiles triumphantly. "Sessions in the Danger Room are held every other day, there's one tonight at six."

"I'll be there." Jamie huffs, already heading back out of the room.

Joan watches her daughter go, thoughtful now, though she waits the several moments it'll take for her daughter to be finally out of earshot before she speaks. "You know, one would almost think you want my daughter to snatch your son out of Sarah Summers arms."

Ororo shrugs, openly smirking now. "When it comes to my son, I've found I usually know what I'm doing. We shall see this time."

"Yes, I suppose we shall."

...

"Fletcher? Please tell me you're lost or something."

Jamie strolls into the Danger Room, not even missing a beat at the sound of Sarah Summers voice. "Go suck a dick, Barbie."

"Girls! Come on, now." Anna scolds.

"Sorry, Ms. Rogue." Sarah answers.

Jamie just shrugs. Anna rolls her eyes.

"Hey, Jamie! My mom finally talked to you, then?" Jake comes up to greet her.

Future-mate! Wild Thing perks up at this. He looks like himself for once, all broad shoulders and fluffy fur, his voice a smooth baritone.

Jamie smiles at the sight and sound of him. "Yeah. Figured I'd give it a try."

"You have no idea how happy that makes me."

Ugh. No, she's not blushing. Wild Thing does not blush. "Yeah, well. Nothin' better to do around here. I'm goin' stir crazy, this place is lame."

Jake just laughs.

A solid handful of other students make their way into the room - some Jamie's talked to, a few she actually hasn't - and another teacher joins Anna. Mr. Drake. All blue eyes and thick beard. He teaches math, and alot of the other female students are crushing on him hard. Jamie's indifferent - he's a little too much a generic pretty boy for her tastes and seems awful tight laced. She's seen him use his ice powers once or twice and that's awesome enough to earn him some points, though.

He clears his throat. "Alright, alright guys, settle down. We've got a few new recruits here so for today we're just gonna run some basic solo simulations, that way everyone can get basically acquainted with what your teammates can do. Don't worry too much about skills, just stick to using your powers and what you already know. Bare in mind that even if you know how to fight, as we're well aware a few of you do already, there's certainly still a lot you've got to learn. Now I know there's a few of you with abilities best suited to close-quarters, I'll pull up an opponent for you guys to show off with first since I know at least two of you will be raring to go."

Jake offers to go first and happily. The simulated opponent is another mutant - clearly a woman, though there's hardly much about her that one could identify as human with her scaly blue skin and the way she fights more with her feet and legs than her hands. Jamie wonders idly if that's someone the X-Men have fought before.

The simulation isn't set to a very high level. Jake dances around the strange opponent with a grace that's impressive for his size, lashing out with his long arms and easily breaking free of the holds she puts him in.

See! Future-mate is strong and fast, a worthy partner! Wild Thing prods her.

Jamie huffs a growl at herself.

Anna catches her gaze and sends her a questioning look. Jamie waves her off. Talk later. She thinks, maybe, she could be comfortable confiding in the older girl.

Incidentally, did Anna hear her growl? How could Anna have heard that?

Jake completes an ending move wherein the blue skinned simulation is thrown against the far wall of the Danger Room and dissolves into nothingness. Jake brushes himself off a bit and seems to grow sheepish at the grin his girlfriend is sending at him; if Jamie didn't know better, she'd say he's probably blushing beneath all his fur.

Ugh.

The simulation promptly materializes again in the center of the room, standing straight and staring blankly ahead as the computer awaits a further command. Another boy goes up to bat next. His mutation is speed, but his coordination needs work. He appears to be trained as a boxer but is unimpressive when compared to Jake. He beats the simulation but only barely. And then it's Jamie's turn.

She'd watched the simulation when Jake was fighting it; it's probably hovering down at level three at most. The system goes up to 15, and Jamie had come in here to blow off steam running level nines. Though, in fairness, that was on nights when she low-key wanted to get her ass kicked good.

Anyway, this'll be a peace of cake.

Anna calls it. "Begin simulation."

The blue-skinned woman comes to life and sends a leg out to slam into Jamie's chest, but it's slow. Jamie catches the holo-woman around the ankle and twists. The holo-woman kicks out with her other leg, landing back on her hands for support; Jamie dodges and spins around with her own leg up high to catch the it right in the head. It'll be an instant knock out. Jamie will have won without even really having to try.

Anna's voice rings out again, sounding oddly mischievous. "For heaven's sake, computer, bump it to level nine!"

Jamie only just has time to send a raised eyebrow in Anna's direction before the simulation readjusts itself. "What the he-" And then she's really dancing, all across the room, narrowly avoiding the other students even. The blue-skinned woman is a whirlwind of activity, far more vicious now, even sending a hand out to hit Jamie right in the throat.

Iceman starts to call out for the simulation to end itself, genuine worry clear in his tone, but Anna stops him.

The holo-woman swirls around and sends one scaled foot slamming hard into Jamie's chest, and Jamie lands hard on her backside. Before she can get back to her feet, the simulation has it's legs wrapped firm around her midsection, and an arm wrapped firm around her neck.

Jamie had been trying to hold back in the hopes of not seeming too much a freak of nature, but Wild Things getting annoyed now.

With a low growl Jamie unleashes her claws and sends them to slicing straight through the holo-woman's legs. The simulations grip quickly loosens; Jamie throws it off, shoots to her feet, and delivers a sharp kick to the holo-woman's chest. The simulation flies back and doesn't get back to it's feet quick enough; a snarling Wild Thing charges her opponent with claws out and soon has it pinned against the wall.

The holo-woman promptly disintegrates.

A brief moment passes. The other students all begin tittering excitedly.

"Whoa. Uh, that was..." Mr. Drake starts, incredulous.

"Badass?" Anna suggests, smug.

"...admittedly impressive for a seventeen-year-old." He settles on. "Though not totally suprising, she is Logan's kid."

Breathing heavy, Wild Thing sends her claws back into hiding and turns back to Anna as rshe rolls her shoulders a bit, feeling the bruises around her neck heal up the rest of the way. "A little warnin' woulda been nice."

Anna's smirking, hand on her hip. "Aww, c'mon now, sweet pea, we both know yah like showin' off."

Wild Thing rolls her eyes and retreats willingly back into it's mental cage. Jamie takes another moment to catch her breath and then shuffles along to lean against the wall behind the other students, arms crossed, feeling huffy. (Most of the others look impressed. Sarah Summers appears very un-impressed. Jake... Jake's got a look in his eyes that sends Wild Thing to preening internally but Jamie ignores that.)

Sarah almost looks like she wants to go next, but seems to be more practiced than that at keeping her head, to her credit. Mr. Drake pulls up an entirely different opponent, this one a simulation of someone Jamie's at least vaguely familiar with - the old guy had made it all over the news at some point, causing some kind of mayhem with an ability to control metal. Two of the others volunteer readily to face this one. One can create fire, the other displays some form of plant manipulation (likely far more impressive in an outside and authentic environment, but he manages to get the point across well enough with the simulations provided).

And then Sarah steps up to bat.

"I know you've trained with this sim before, Sarah." Mr. Drake says. "Want me to bump it up to seven for you?"

Sarah seems conflicted a moment, calculating, and turns to eye Jamie up. "I've beat it at higher than that. Make it level ten."

Mr. Drake's eyebrows shoot up. He brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck. "I'm not sure that's..."

Next to him, Anna rolls her eyes. "She wants to act like a big girl, let her get her ass kicked if she wants, I won't stop yah shuttin' it down this time."

"Rogue." He grumbles, exasperated. "You're as bad as Logan. You promised you'd behave."

"That was before Ah remembered just how borin' yah are." She shrugs, holding his gaze, challenging him. "Ready Sarah?"

Sarah seems a little more unsure as she eyes up the two teachers, who are as yet still engaged in a battle of wills.

Jamie grumbles from her position still back against the far wall, just loud enough to be heard. "Aw c'mon Summers, don't be stupid."

"Level ten, I'm sure." Sarah answers.

"Eight." Mr. Drake finally tears his eyes away from Anna to send Sarah a stern look.

"Computer, bump it up to level nine again!" Anna calls out. "And just begin simulation already."

The simulation ripples a bit and then comes to life at once. The computer produces several pieces of debris that are far heavier than they had been for the other students; the holo-man promptly sends one to flying straight at Sarah, who dodges easy enough, and...

Oh. Is that what her powers are? The hunk of metal floats in mid-air just before her via what can only be telekenesis. So she's just another mind freak. She's not too well in control of it, though; she manages to throw the hunk of metal at her opponent, but is clearly left some kind of winded by the effort. She dodges the next attack thrown at her, but barely this time. She won't last long if she's trying to show off that way, and she clearly knows it. Instead of trying, she pulls out an odd pair of glasses and puts them on with trembling hands. It's a visor of some sort that also looks oddly familiar, but Jamie's got no clue where she'd have seen it's like before.

Anyway, Sarah's primary power proves to be admittedly much cooler than the other one she'd displayed - a beam of red energy emits itself from what can only be her eyes, focused through the visor it seems. It slices haphazardly through a few other pieces of debris around before Sarah finds her footing and trains it on the next hunk of metal flying directly at her. But that creates another problem - the hunk of metal breaks apart and is now red hot. A piece of the debris catches her off guard. She dodges but stays facing it with the clear intention of blasting it further into oblivion, except her foot catches on the rocky ground created by the simulation. Her ankle twists and she lets out a yelp as she falls, landing hard and awkward enough on the ground that her visor flies off and lands just out of her reach, forcing her to shut her eyes quick as her power seems to take a moment to shut itself off. The bit of piping hot metal still left flies towards the group of other students - and is stopped by a wall of ice courtesy of Mr. Drake.

Anna calls out for the simulation to end itself.

Mr. Drake snarls at her. "That. Is the last time. I run a Danger Room session with you."

"Ah, this wasn't my idea in the first place. Tell 'Ro to bring herself down here and do it if yah don't like it."

"I take it back. You're worse than Logan these days, I don't know what's gotten into you, but Ororo will hear about it." Mr. Drake replies, hostile.

Jamie files that exchange away to question Anna about it later. "Summers, you're an idiot." She grumbles, shaking her head as she eyes up the redhead.

Jake flies across the room to his girlfriends aid as Anna suggests someone should go get Dr. McCoy.

"No, no, I can make it to the medlab if someone else is willing to give me a hand too." Sarah interjects quickly. "My ankles just twisted, that's all. It's not Ms. Rogue's fault, Mr. Drake. I..wasn't thinking exactly straight."

Heaving a sigh - because she knows what she needs to do, even though Wild Thing howls in indignant protest - Jamie shuffles off across the room. "C'mon. Between me 'n Jake we can probably get yah to the medlab."

Sarah hesitates for a fraction of a moment, but ultimately decides to take the olive branch and throws an arm over Jamie's shoulders for extra support. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"I..really have beaten the same sim at level eight."

"I believe it." Jamie answers readily, because she does. "Just gotta learn to get yahr head in the game and keep it there, Summers."

Sarah winces before she can respond again, letting out a hiss in what might be pain. "Damn!"

"Your other ankle?" Jake asks, worried.

"No." Sarah answers, hesitating. "It's..it's the same one. It feels..wrong."

Jamie barely hears her. An odd sort of pressure builds - she feels a little light headed, but manages to keep moving along. The feeling subsides so quickly she almost thinks she imagined it anyway.

.

"Jamie! Wait! Something's up."

She makes it most of the way down the hallway before his voice reaches her.

He lumbers up, gesturing back towards the medlab. "My dad wants to see you, now I guess."

"Oh." Jamie blinks at him. "Uh. Somethin' wrong?"

"No. Actually, that seems to be the point."

She shrugs. "Alright."

"Fair warning." He leads her back down the hallway. "My dad gets a little...uh, just, he forgets himself when he's excited."

Jamie just chuckles. She'd met the good Doctor - the minute he'd heard of her arrival he'd come to ask her if she'd mind him performing a basic examination on her. Mutations such as her particular regenerative capabilities are rare, though clearly not unheard off, and he was eager to take some notes and see if some of the more detailed differences he'd found in Logan's physiology were shared by her.

(They were. Of course.)

"It's alright." She answers Jake. "Your dad's cool."

They slip into the medlab. Sarah's just in the process of putting her shoes back on, and looks oddly bewildered herself.

"Jamie! Oh, good! We ought to test this out at once, I think." Dr. McCoy bustles out of his office as she and Jake enter.

"Test what out, Doc?" She prompts.

He waves her over. "See for yourself." He nods at Sarah's ankle.

Jamie eyes it up, raising an eyebrow. "Uh..."

"Well, look at it! Sarah here was quite certain that she had twisted it, but there certainly doesn't appear to be any damage, nor is she still feeling any pain."

"Ok. So..what's that got to do with me?"

"I felt something..off." Sarah interjects. "A tingling sensation. Kinda. I don't know, Dr. McCoy thought you might know what I meant."

Jamie's brows furrow. "Tingling...painful. Like pins and needles but hot ones, burning. Crazy intense for a minute but the worst of it over pretty quick."

"Yeah, actually. That was exactly it."

"That's what it feels like when I heal."

Sarah stares at her oddly. "Every time? You feel that every time?"

Jamie shrugs, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of her neck uncomfortably. "Yah get used to it."

"I know." Dr. McCoy says quietly. "Logan once explained it the same way."

Jamie stares at him, bewildered. "Well...so what the hell does this mean?"

"Have you ever noticed anything odd happen when you touch people?"

"I ain't exactly the touchy-feely type, Doc. Unless yah're countin'..." Sex. But best not say that out loud. She can't hold back a bit of a smirk, though. "Well. Times you wouldn't be countin'."

Sarah rolls her eyes and Jake chuckles but Dr. McCoy shakes his head. "You'd have noticed this before, it's possible your mutation didn't develop itself the rest of the way until more recently. There's little way of knowing that but the proof of my theory should be simple enough to achieve."

"So wait, you think I healed her somehow? I mean, how would you test that out unless...?"

Dr. McCoy snatches up a small scalpel off a tray nearby. "Simple enough. A small cut would suffice, it doesn't need to be anything elaborate." He holds out his own hand, palm up and, before anyone can protest, makes a cut with the scalpel on his palm. "There now, relax children, there's little harm done there if I'm wrong. Jamie, if you'd care to..."

Shrugging, Jamie reaches out to circle a few of the doctors large fingers with her own. "Not sure what I did in the first place, though, assumin' you're right." She's skeptical.

"What might you have been thinking earlier, in the hallway?"

"Well, I..I was thinking about when I was ten. Before my mutation manifested itself." She chooses her words with car. "I was playing outside and tripped over a tree root, got my foot caught up in the thing. Hurt like crazy, my ankle was twisted pretty bad. I had to keep it in a brace for weeks, missed half my summer holiday that way, I was miserable. There aren't too many people I'd wish any sort of real pain on, much less..."

Dr. McCoy winces a bit. Jamie feels nothing this time, but sure enough, the small cut on his palm suddenly stitches itself neatly back together as though nothing had ever been there at all. His voice goes quieter, wistful, almost..awed. "Well, Ms. Fletcher. It seems we've found our answer. How kind a thought for you to have. My dear, with a mutation like this, I..."

Jamie takes her hand back abruptly. "I..need...to..." She looks around. Jake, the doctor, Sarah, they're all just staring at her. Her stomach twists. "S'cuse me." She brushes past Jake and out of the room.

...

"Jamie!" His voice follows her down the hallway again. "Jamie, wait, please!"

"You gotta work on just lettin' things be, Jake." She barks at him, gruff.

"Hey." He grabs her arm, surprisingly forceful. "I told you, we're friends, dammit. What's wrong? I know it's probably a little weird to suddenly realize there's more to your mutation but..."

"I didn't heal your girlfriend because I wanted her to feel better." She blurts it at once, because the thoughts already trailing itself in circles around her mind.

"What?" He just looks confused.

"I didn't give a shit about your girlfriend being hurt. I really thought it'd serve 'er right for gettin' cocky and tryin' to show me up like that. I accidentally healed her because I realized you'd be upset about her bein' hurt."

Realization just begins to dawn behind his yellow-gold eyes. "Jamie...what are you tryin' to say?"

But she just shakes her head. "You know what? Nevermind. Just run on back to your Barbie Doll, ok? It's better for everyone that way."

This time, he lets her go.

...

Jamie didn't expect this.

She was actually looking for Logan when she first went wandering around. But the school is only so big, and it becomes pretty quickly apparent that Logan isn't in it. When Jamie finally grilled Ororo on the subject, the Weather Witch had only shrugged and replied that Rogue was generally the best person to ask on an occasion such as this.

(Jamie doesn't even quite know what that means).

But when she catches the older girl's scent and trails it through the halls, she's lead to Anna's room. And Anna herself is... Well. There's an oddly copious amount of moonshine present. Long story short, Jamie ends up just as drunk as Anna is. And that's before she even manages to figure out why Anna is drunk in the first place.

What the hell is this stuff Anna has, anyway?

Anna explains. Kinda. She's really drunk. But apparently, she's known Logan for years and they'd been a thing up until Joan and Jamie arrived.

Oh..well..shit.

.

"So wait. You..'n..my dad..were about to get it on?"

"Yeah. Pr'tty mush."

"Jus' b'fore Ma an' I showed up?"

"Yep."

"...Y'know, I feel like I should say sorry..."

"Not yahr fault. S'kinda his fault, actually. Jackass never ev'n told meh 'bout y'all."

"He really is a jackass, ain't he? Damn."

Anna nudges the jar of moonshine closer to Jamie, who pours herself a shot and downs it without flinching. The first few shots had nearly come right back up, the stuff smells like paint thinner and tastes even worse, but she's drunk enough at the moment that she hardly notices.

"So wha'sup with you then?" Anna questions. "Yah kicked ass in the Danger Room. Summers made an ass of herself. Thought yah'd be happy."

"Yeah, maybe I should be. S'jus', I ain't worried 'bout lookin' good for anyone else."

"Just for Jake." Anna nods as she realizes. "Well. Mean. Pretty sure he was impressed."

Jamie shrugs. "Doesn' matter. He's only got eyes for her. You 'n I got a few more things in common than I first thought."

"Hm. Funny little world we live in, huh?" Anna pours two shots and holds hers up in a tipsy toast. "Forget them. Bein' single is awesome. We can do whatever we want."

"Or whoever?" Jamie adds, flashing a wolfish grin.

"That too." Anna agrees with a wink.

The pair drink and burst into drunken giggles.

...

"Marie! Marie, open up, we need to talk."

The banging on the door only grows louder and more insistent the longer they ignore it. It's Saturday. They hadn't gone to bed until maybe four or five in the morning and Jamie's phone tells her it's only seven now. She still feels half drunk, so it's likely Anna's still thoroughly loaded.

(They killed a jar of legitimate moonshine and then damn near a full bottle of whiskey, and half a case of beer Anna had had stashed somewhere and Jamie can't for the life of her figure how Anna kept up for so long. Or, for that matter, why the literal hell Anna had so much booze on hand to begin with.)

Oh, and it's Logan at the door. Of course.

"Marie, dammit, I ain't goin' anywhere. Open up or the doors gonna get to know one of my claws a little too well."

"Aww, shaddup already, I'm comin'!"

With a sigh Anna rolls out of bed and stands swaying a moment, hand held to her head. "He'll be pissed if he sees yah and realizes..." She grumbles.

Jamie turns to lay on her back and throw an arm over her eyes. "Eh. I got leverage now. My ma's got no idea the old man was seein' you before we turned up, I guarantee it, and I ain't afraid to point it out, either."

Anna barks a laugh. "Yah know, yah think kinda like him, only yah're twice as damned clever sometimes."

Jamie peers out with one eye and winks at her new found girl friend. Anna staggers across the room and finally opens the door, leaning against the door frame with a fist resting on her hip. "It is too damned early for yahr shit, Logan. What d'yah want?"

His cringe is audible in his voice as he answers. "An actual conversation would be nice, yah've been avoidin' it for weeks now. Jesus girl, you smell like..are you drunk?"

"Uh, no shit. Enough still to kick yahr ass fer wakin' meh up at seven a.m. on a Saturday, in fact." Marie replies, deadpan.

Jamie chuckles at this.

Logan pushes past Anna, who huffs but makes no move to stop him. "You too?"

Jamie just raises a certain finger up high.

He rounds on Anna. "She's seventeen. What the hell were you thinkin'?"

"That Ah needed a drinkin' buddy and she has a metabolism that's faster even than yours we're pretty sure, so there ain't no harm done."

"That ain't the point and you know it!"

"Aw, just fuck off already old man."

He turns around slow this time, dangerously controlled and quiet. "S'cuse me?"

Jamie's just snatched up one of the beers that was left; she pops it open and looks the Wolverine right in the eye. "You heard me." She drinks.

"What in the hell do you think yahr doin'?"

"Oh no. What matters is what in the hell you'd do if I told Ma you were this close to screwin' someone else not four months ago. No offence, Anna."

"None taken, Sugah." In fact, Anna's failing miserably at surpressing a smirk.

He reeks of anger. "So that's how we're playin' this, now?"

"I'm runnin' outta reasons not to play it like that pretty damn fast." Jamie answers, honest. "Go bother someone else. Anna doesn't wanna talk to you and I need my beauty sleep."

Silence. He takes in a breath and lets it out with a half growl, sizing Jamie up, but she just calmly takes another pull from her beer. Finally, he shakes his head. "One day you'll realize some things, kid." He sounds more sad than anything else. "Things I wish I could make yah realize now but I can't. Just know that I ain't goin' anywhere in the meantime. Yahr stuck with me and I got a feelin' yah'll be glad of that some day. Get some sleep, yah both look like shit." He stalks back out of the room, slamming the door shut a little harder than necessary behind him.

Anna snatches up a beer for herself, heaving a sigh. "He's probably right, yah know. Again, Ah sure's hell ain't yahr Mama, Ah'm just sayin'. "

Jamie doesn't know anything right now. The look he'd given her...there was such an intense sadness there. She doesn't know what to do with this. "Fuck him anyway." She grumbles.

They pass back out not more than half an hour later.

...

"Hey."

Jamie's sitting outside again. It's maybe one o' clock in the afternoon; a bit more sleep and some food was enough to clear away any trace of a hangover (though Anna hadn't been so lucky). Cold as the weather is growing, the grounds outside the mansion have become the best place to find some peace and quiet, so she'd decided to wander outside. It's Jake that's coming to join her, looking his normal self, the fur no doubt providing him with extra warmth.

"Hey." She answers quietly.

He sits next to her in the grass, handing her one of the two steaming mugs he's holding. "Hot chocolate. It's freezing out here. Aren't you cold?"

She accepts the mug with a smile, closing her eyes as she sniffs at the cocoa. "Mmmm. No. Mom and I lived up in the mountains back home. Would take us half an hour at least to even get to town. The cold never did bother me much as it should. You should see what winter up there is like if you think this is bad." She sips the cocoa.

"I'm sure it's probably beautiful, though."

She nods. "Yeah. I kinda miss it. There's a lot about living there that I miss, honestly."

"You know, I don't think you've ever said - did you have any friends up there?"

"Oh yeah." She glances at him, a bit of a smirk pulling at her lips. "Just, uhm, maybe..not the kind of friends anyone down here would approve of."

"Ah." He chuckles. "S'fair enough, but I'm sure you miss them anyway."

"There's a couple I do." She thinks of Tierney, and Hunter (and the many different reasons why she kinda misses him), and clears her throat. "Course now there's at least a few people down here I'd miss if I went back to live there. So..there's that."

"Just a few?" Jake questions, staring down into his hot chocolate.

"Yeah. Just a few. But... I mean, I'd really miss them."

"Really?"

"Really."

He glances at her. "We'd miss you, too."

"I know."

They exchange a smile.

"I was gonna head down to the Danger Room before dinner, run a couple simulations. I could use a sparring partner, if you'd like to join me." He offers.

"Sounds..fun, actually."

"Good. I'll see you then." He gets up and wanders off back to the warmth of the mansion.

Jamie sips her cocoa and smiles at the sky as a few small flakes of snow land in the steaming mug. Sparring with him. It's not much. But at least it's something.

...

"I don't know." Ms. Munroe looks fretful.

"We'd be back before it gets too late, I promise!" Jamie assures her. "It's just Tash seems really bummed about her Birthday for some reason. Won't tell me why but I..." She blows out a breath. "I just don't like seein' her upset, I guess. I've got a little money saved up, I figured I'd take her to do something."

"And that's very sweet of you, but..."

"Aw, c'mon, what is it with you people? It's not like Tash or I attract that much attention! It's the Holidays anyway, people are gonna be too busy worrying about their shopping."

Sarah Summers gets to her feet and trails a path across the room. She'd been in talking to Ms. Munroe before Jamie peeked her head into the Weather Witches office; now the redhead clears her throat, eyeing Jamie up. "Y'know, in fairness, Jamie and I have run some simulations in the Danger Room together, I've seen what she can do, and Tash is eighteen now. Unless someone comes at them with one of those neutralizer guns law enforcement are being issued these days - which isn't likely, so far the police have been more than responsible and reasonable with security and usage of them, not to mention the fact that we all know better than to go drawing any attention to ourselves unnecessarily - it isn't unreasonable to think the pair would be just fine on their own for a few hours."

Ms. Munroe stares at the redhead, hands coming up to plant themselves on her hips. "In other words, the students aren't the only ones who think I'm being a little over cautious."

"Respectfully, no they are not, and outside of them, I have reason to believe I'm not the only one thinking it either."

Ms. Munroe sighs. "You're getting harder and harder to argue with, Sarah Jean Summers."

"I do my best." The redhead offers up an innocent smile.

The Weather Witch seems to think on it a moment more, and then heaves a sigh. "Alright. I supppose you can go."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Yes! Okay! Awesome! Thanks, thanks a bunch!" Jamie darts back out of the room to go tell Tash. She's not sure how she feels about Summers being the only reason she'd just won that battle, but decides to worry about it later. Right now, she's got a girls day to get ready for.

...

"So where are we going?" Tash hadn't objected to the idea of Jamie taking her somewhere. In fact, she seems to have perked back up a bit now that the pair of them are on the road in Jamie's truck. "To the mall?"

"That's what I was thinking. I wanted to buy you a present but I just wasn't sure what you'd even want."

"That's okay. You know I like shopping."

"And then I jus' figured we could go get something to eat, there's a couple of good places around."

"Sounds good."

The mall is crowded when they get there, as it's the middle of December. Jamie cringes at the idea of trying to push through the crowds of harried parents and their screaming children, but sucks it up for Tash's sake. They wander for some time; plenty of stores are having sales of some kind, and Tash really does love shopping. She perks up a little more as Jamie suggests she go try on some clothes, and is bouncing around more like her usual stuff when they find a boutique promoting a free makeover.

"Oh, won't you come do it with me?" Tash begs, tugging a bit at Jamie's arm like a kid in a candy shop.

"Uuuh." Jamie rakes a hand through hair and trails it down to rub at the back of her neck. "I really didn't sign up for this, Tash."

"Awww! Pleeeaase!" Puppy dog eyes and all.

Jamie huffs a growl. "Fine! Fine. I'm washin' it off before we leave for home, though."

"Yay!" Tash drags her along.

Jamie sits patiently as she can manage as an extremely heavyset, fluffy-haired swoman who smells far too strongly of perfume and hairspray comes at her with ten different colorful kinds of powder and greasy goop. God, she hated having to do this on herself to please her grandmother. Having it done by someone else is torture at it's finest.

"Oh yah know dawlin', I can give yah the name of some stuff that would work wonders on yah arms." The lady chatters casually in a thick New York accent, though Jamie wouldn't know what part. "Don't hurt to bad, neither, and yah wouldn't have ta worry about it again fah months, I swear!"

Jamie glances down at her forearms. She's well aware of how dark the hair is that grows in; she used to shave it at the behest of her grandmother. These days her give-a-damns pretty busted where such things are concerned, though. She shrugs, careless. "Nah. I got better things to do." Besides, it's not like she's gotten flirted with any less now that she gave up up on trying doll herself up like this. On the contrary, she somehow seems to be getting more attention now.

"Suit yahself, sweetheart. Yah know, I just wish I was as brave as you."

Jamie just manages to hold back an eye roll, grunts a 'mmm', and mostly doesn't bother to respond to the woman anymore than that.

"Awww, you look so pretty!" Tash tells her, when the torture is finally over. "I mean, I know you don't care about this stuff anymore, but you know..." She prattles on.

Jamie barely hears. She feels a headache coming on. Wild Thing's pacing restlessly in her mental cage, hackles raised. There's just too many people around. "You gettin' hungry yet?" She asks Tash as the other girl finally quiets down again.

"Starving! We should go to that burger place for dinner! But hey, I think I know what you can buy me here, if you don't mind..."

They wander back across the mall to snatch up a summer dress Tash had tried on earlier. Jamie happily pays and then beats a hasty retreat from the mall altogether with Tash following not far behind, seeming a little bewildered now.

It isn't until they make it outside that she realizes why she's suddenly feeling so tense; something had caught her eye a few times. Someone. The same person, a girl. Woman? She's so skinny it's hard to tell. But why is Jamie feeling like...?

The girl wanders off in a different direction, clearly shivering in the cold, and gets into a car a ways away.

Wild Thing snarls. Ain't right. She was followin' us and yah know it.

"Jamie?" Tash pulls her out of her reverie. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah." Jamie answers, shaking her head to clear it. "Yeah, everythings fine. C'mon, I'm hungry."

She's pretty sure that's the other car she just saw driving off. They're perfectly safe. Everythings fine. Really, it is.

They get to the restaurant and order food. Jamie's still feeling way on edge, but tries to keep her cool. She doesn't see anyone suspicious in here. No one staring at her and Tash or anything creepy like that. Everything is fine.

So why are her instincts still screaming at her to run like hell?

They're foods taking an awful long time to get done. Sure the restaurant is busy, but it's been... Jamie scans the room for a millionth time. There's people everywhere, just everywhere, she can't pick out one scent over another, not with all the food to contend with as well, but there is a group seated in the corner of the room now. The skinny girl from earlier is with them. Not so weird. But there's three guys with her. Big guys. Really big guys. And one of them holds Jamie's gaze a moment as she catches him looking...

"Tash, we're leaving. Now." She gets to her feet, stretching a bit, trying to make it look casual.

"Now? Why? Our food hasn't even...?"

"Yeah, I know. I ain't seen our waitress since she brought us our drinks, either, and there's a table full of awful big boys over that's been eyein' us up like a starvin' wolf would a ribeye. We need to go. Now." She looks her friend in the eye.

Clearly sensing Jamie's distress, Tash shoots to her feet. "Ok. Ok. Now."

"Breathe. Keep your cool. Take my keys, don't head outside too fast, and start my truck."

"You want go outside where we'll be alone?" She shrieks, drawing some stares.

Jamie half growls as she responds through gritted teeth. "I can prob'bly take these goons just fine if I gotta , just not in here, now do as I say, dammit! Head outside, start the truck, and send a message to Ms. Munroe."

Tash nods and darts off to do as instructed.

Jamie shrugs her own jacket on, and stuffs her hands in her pockets, waiting until she's probably, mostly out of sight of her potential attackers before she pulls out her phone and hits the button that will speed-dial her mother.

Then she slips her phone back in her coat pocket and zips it up there. It's questionable how much her mother will be able to hear, but the older woman should be able to tell somethings up.

She strolls out to the parking lot casually enough. It's a little before dinner time in reality, between rushes, and there's nobody else in this corner of the parking lot. As expected, it isn't long before the three large goons and the skinny girl make there way out behind her.

Jamie doesn't ask questions. The minute one gets too close, she totally gives Wild Thing the reigns, and the dance begins. The boys are big and well fed and stronger even than Jamie would've thought at first, but nothing she can't handle given who she's had for sparring partners lately. The only problem is they're a pretty hard-headed bunch. No, really hard-headed. Everytime she manages to knock one on his ass the others come back up swingin'. They don't seem to be mutants. Actually, Jamie's getting more the impression that they're maybe on drugs or something. In any case, Jamie's beginning to tire just a bit, and that's before one gets hold of her arm and twists it. Hard.

Oh shit. That hurts. That..that really hurts. She can't move the arm, the brute had pulled her shoulder clear out of socket. No fix to that until she can stop and pop back into place. Oh no, oh shit, oh..her heads swimming, her visions gone blurry, if she were anyone else she'd have probably passed clean out from the pain already.

The tallest and beefiest of the bunch lumbers up as she's left reeling and grabs her right around the waist, trapping her good arm too. Before she can get her bearings and even try to fight, the skinny girl comes up with a nasty look in her eye and produces what looks like some sort of gun. But it doesn't fire a bullet. It fires a small dart right into Jamie's bad arm.

Whatever's in it hits her bloodstream fast and hard. Her visions gone even blurrier, God, she's blind as a bat, and her ears..everything's getting muffled. Like she's got earplugs in.

"Sorry 'bout that." The girl drawls in a country bumpkin accent that's thicker than Anna's. "Ah's gonna git yah with the stuff earlier but one of these idiots forgot to load the gun wit' it. We'll get yah're arm fixed up, don't yah worry." She produces another dart from inside the gun and comes up to prick Jamie's finger with it. "You just go on and sleep for meh meantime." She says.

Distantly she can here Tash screeching loud, though the sound is cut off abruptly. And then, all goes dark.


	8. Just the Beginning 8: Revelations

"Jamie. Jamie! Come on, please wake up, please please please..."

"Wha'?" She only barely registered Tash's voice.

"Jamie? Oh come on, please, you've gotta wake up now cause this is crazy, it's a bunch of stupid hicks and they've got us all locked up, oh please wake up..."

It takes a long moment, but she manages to form words. "Jesus f-ing Christ."

"Ohmygod your awake thankgodIthought..."

"Tash. You know I love yah. But seriously. Shut the hell up a minute."

Silence. The only sound now is Tash's heavy breathing.

Jamie takes in a deep breath and winces a bit. The good news is, whatever the hillybilly creeps had shot her up with has long since worn off. The bad news is, they're in a barn now, and she knows that because it reeks.

She has to force her own eyes open, but once she does, she's wide awake. Sunlight creeps liberally through the cracks in the barns roof above them, bright and teasing of a freedom which the girls no longer possess. Jamie takes a moment to process this, and then slowly tries moving the arm that had been pulled out of place. It's stiff and a little sore, which is to be expected even with her healing factor, but she can move it. So the kidnappers had popped it back into place while she was sedated, as the woman had promised. Once her eyes have adjusted to the light, she works her way into a sitting position and gets a look at Tash.

The other girl is clearly shaken, moderately hysterical even, but appears basically unharmed. Jamie lets out a relieved breath. "Relax." She tells the other girl. "We've got some time to think. We're no good to them if they bang us all up."

"What?" Tash scowls. "What do you mean - they kidnapped us!"

"And yet you've got what? Nothin' but a few bruises and a cut on your arm? And they fixed my shoulder up. I don't know what the hell they want us for, but clearly they need us in good shape. If not, we wouldn't be in such good shape. So take a deep breath. We're not dead meat yet."

Tash just stares at her a moment, taking a moment to think that through. "Oh. That..that makes sense."

"Have you seen them yet?"

"Not exactly. One of them brought food enough for me while you were still out. I mean, I think it was one of them, it was clearly a guy, but I didn't really see the ones who attacked us."

"Any idea how long ago that was?"

"No. Its been a few hours maybe, it was pitch black dark out when they came."

Jamie pulls herself to her feet and looks around. "They'll probably be back soon then, see if I'm awake yet."

"How can you be so calm?" Tash asks, sounding frustrated now.

"Things could be worse." Jamie shrugs. "Did the guy say anything when he brought yah food?"

"No."

"Did you eat what he brought?"

Tash shakes her head and gestures with a shaking hand to an untouched plate of meat and potatoes and bread. A tin cup full of water sits next to it.

Jamie walks over and picks up the plate, sniffing at the food. Smells like it should, doesn't seem to be anything wrong. She picks up one of the roasted potatoe slices and pops it into her own mouth.

"Wait, what if it's poisoned or something!" Tash screechs.

Jamie sets the plate back down. "Wouldn't kill me anyway. Don't think it's poisoned, though."

"How would you know!"

"Smells fine."

"How the hell would you know what poison smells like?"

"Fought a guy in a cage match back home. Kicked his ass, he wasn't too happy about it. Guess he thought he'd get away with slippin' something in my drink easier than he would tryin' to shoot a girl straight down the head, the fuckin' psycho. S'how I know it wouldn't kill me, incidentally."

Tash just stares at her now.

"You've gotta be starvin', eat." Jamie says. (Jamie's starving. Her stomachs roaring at her and she feels lightheaded. Healing like she'd had to..she'll need something to eat too. Soon.)

(Wild Thing nudges the food towards her friend anyway.)

"You were hurt. You should eat." Tash tries to refuse.

"Told yah. They'll prob'bly be back for me soon. Eat."

"But what if -"

Wild Thing barks at her. "Just eat the damned food!"

Tash starts almost violently, but seems to think better of protesting further. She sits and begins trying to eat.

...

They wait mostly in silence for hours more, maybe several of them, there's no way to tell. Jamie hears what's most certainly cars pulling up outside, and the sound of a woman's high heels clicking hollowly against wood. Then all is silent again for a while, until footsteps sound outside coming closer. The barn doors open, flooding the abysmal space with more light.

It's the girl and all three of her large friends. The men hang back a bit at her command, and she comes forward. "Well now, thank the good Lawd, Ah's beginnin to wonder if yah'd ever wake up. Hows the arm? Healin' awright?"

Silence. Wild Thing glares.

"Aw, c'mon now, we fixed yah up good and brought yah friend some food, yah could at least pretend to be grateful."

"For fixin' the arm your goon back there damn near detached from my body? Sure. Thanks. Now what do yah want with us?" Jamie asks.

"Ah don't want nothin'." The girl holds her hands up in mock surrender. "Don't norm'ly tend to agree to go after ones strong as you, s'too risky. But Ah got a friend who's really just dyin' to meet yah, short stuff. Now, Ah can promise, we won't hurt yah. Ah got mouths to feed and Ah don't make money unless y'all're in good shape when Ah pass yah 'long. And yah're friend here's not much good to nobody - no 'ffense sweetheart - so Ah can promise she'll be let go. We only took her in the first place cause she came at us causin' more of a ruckus. Now do I gotta shoot yah up again or are yah willin' t' trust me on that?"

Poor Tash is so confused and afraid that she's sobbing quietly. Jamie reaches out a slow hand to gently squeeze the other girls arm. "Breathe. See? No ones gonna hurt you." Not that she really believes that, but Tash looks about ready to pass out from the panic. Being that there isn't much else she can do, Jamie turns to the skinny girl. "Ok. I'll be good."

The skinny girl nods and waves one of her friends forward. He instructs Tash to step back a few paces, and then handcuffs Jamie. "Jus' fer peace o' mind on my end."

"Fair 'nough."

They lead her out of the barn. They're really in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by fields on every side. There's another old barn too, and some silos, and a large old farm house, and Jamie can see cows grazing out in the fields, as well as quite a few chickens wandering the yard. So it's an active farm. They lead her over and into the house. It's ancient but kept surprisingly tidy and clearly lived in. Jamie can smell the evidence of there being a cat or two somewhere around, and there's two children peeking their little heads out of a room as Jamie passes down a hallway. They bare a startling resemblance to the skinny girl, who shoos them away firmly but with a softness to her voice.

Jamie's lead further along the hallway until they reach the room at the end. It's a dining room, small but cozy, set with a full dinner - perfect cuts of juicy steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, home made macaroni and cheese casserole. The works. Her stomach roars at the sight of it, almost painfully empty.

Someone clears their throat. A woman, standing at the head of the table, hands tucked into her pockets as she eyes Jamie up. She's dressed in a fine, fitted pantsuit, and is the definitive owner of the heels Jamie had heard earlier. She smiles. "My, my. Look at those eyes, they're just lovely." She seems truly in awe. Her accent is posh British, though it isn't strong.

Jamie hadn't realized; Wild Thing is floating pretty close to the surface, so her eyes must be flushed pretty heavy with gold. "Thanks." She answers, wary.

"Tell me, is that necessary?" She nods towards Jamie's cuffed hands. "I apologize for the unorthodox methods used to get you here, I'm afraid the whole operation was somewhat botched. I really only wish to talk, and I would hate for this lovely dinner to go to waste."

Jamie's beginning to feel lightheaded. She hasn't eaten since..since yesterday morning before she and Tash left the mansion to go shopping. Healing like she had had taken a lot of energy, not to mention the fight. She has to eat. "I already promised. I'll behave." She meets the woman's eyes.

"And I shall take that on good faith." She nods towards the skinny girl, who comes up and unlocks the cuffs.

"There now. Much better. We can behaved like civilized people. My name is Trixie LaBelle. I'm quite pleased to meet you, Jamie." She puts her hand out.

Jamie eyes her a moment longer, but takes the olive branch, shaking the woman's hand. "What am I doing here?"

"I will explain. But first, please, sit, take whatever you'd like here. You must be starving." Unsure if she could possibly resist for too long, anyway, and realizing it will do her no good if she does, Jamie gives in and reaches for one of the fine cuts of meat on the plate nearest her, tearing into it with a wild and almost animal abandon. Trixie moves the other serving dishes full of food so there are more readily within reaching distance and waits patiently for some time to ensure Jamie eats enough. At length she keeps talking, unperturbed by Jamie's lack of table manners. "Now, as for what you are doing here. You see, I'm part of an organization whose list of specialties includes fixing things. You wouldn't have heard of us before, we try to be discreet and our clients are rather high profile speaking in general, but this time there's been a development of a somewhat more delicate nature."

"Can yah cut to the chase, lady?" Jamie grumbles.

"Kelly Montgomery. D'you know him?"

The bite of rare steak she'd just stabbed with her fork hovers in mid-air a moment, only halfway to her mouth.

"He's in the hospital. Was in the ICU for some time, in point of fact. He tried to contact you, I believe, but it appears you've been rather busy elsewhere."

The fork drops back down onto the plate without ceremony. Jamie gives Trixie a hard stare. "Yeah. I know 'im. Is he..."

"Expected to make a full recovery, darling, not to worry. It's how he arrived in his current predicament that concerns him, and now you as well." Trixie sets a file down on the table next to Jamie's plate. "You see, he was looking for you. By a stroke of rather abysmal luck he just happened to be in the wrong place, at the very wrong time while he was at it."

"Looking for me...?"

"Yes. Now, none of that is our concern, naturally. His injuries were sustained in a fire at a small diner which, I'm to understand, was owned by your mother."

"What?" Jamie's stomach turns, abruptly threatening to reject it's fresh contents.

"It's gone, I'm afraid. Burned to rubble." Trixie opens the file, showing Jamie pictures, documentation. "The local police have written it off as grease spilled in the kitchens, a train reaction. A simple though tragic accident. But your friend was there as it was happening, and claims to have seen the one who started the fire. Ironically, the man claimed to have been there inspecting the buildings fire extinguishers. He's now dead, and young Mr. Montgomery claims the extinguishers the man had been inspecting later proved to all be empty."

"It was arson." Jamie says for her.

"Precisely. Now Mr. Montgomery has just recently hit his eighteenth birthday and is now allowed a fair amount of access to his families evidently bottomless well of funds. He is so firm in his knowledge of what actually happened that he has hired me to fix it, whatever that may end up meaning. And I believe, with your help, we can do so."

"My help?" Jamie's just confused now. "Why my help?"

"Because you see, we're already fairly certain of who orchestrated the crime. She's had her hand in many previous dealings of a shadier nature, but we have never managed to catch her. With your help, however, we may be able to this time." Trixie pauses a moment, hesitating. "It's your grandmother. Carol Elizabeth Fletcher."

Carol Elizabeth Fletcher. Grandmother. Grand - oh hell no, she didn't.

Jamie's fists clench. "I suppose Kelly wasn't the only one hurt?"

"On the contrary. He was quite fortunate. Four lost their lives, including a child no older than three."

Jamie's fist hits the table hard enough that the plates, platters, and silverware it's laden with rattle. "That miserable old gargoyle! She just couldn't leave things alone."

"She is a nasty one. It would be a pleasure to many of my colleagues and myself if we could put her behind bars, but that may never be possible." Just the barest hint of true frustration makes itself known in the woman's voice. "We cannot touch her. Legally, no one can. She's got quite the team of lawyers, as I'm sure you well know. However, our job isn't necessarily to do things legally. It's to see to it that things are fixed, whatever that entails. My job from here is only to hand you the tools needed to do so. All of which are in this file. Bring us evidence of her cooperation, whatever that may mean, and we'll compensate you suitably. Though, I get the impression you may enjoy this."

"I will." Jamie scowls. "But you can keep your money, lady. My friends out there about to piss her pants she's so scared, all I want is for you jerk-offs to take us home and leave me be."

An approving smirk graces Trixie's lips. "Oh, you are a feisty one, aren't you? Such attitude, and I'm told you fight like a wild animal. Forgive me, my dear, but what you ask isn't possible. My superiors have had an eye on you for some time and see no point in holding back any longer. We'll speak again. You have until two weeks from now to accomplish your new task." She produces a business card from inside her jacket and places it inside the file. "My card. Should you read through the information already provided and feel you may need something more, I'll do my best to oblige you upon being informed. You and your friend will be returned promptly. Until next time, Ms. Fletcher."

The skinny girl reappears.

"Hannah, please, take Ms. Fletcher out to the car and have her returned home. And do be more respectful this time. We'll discuss your payment when you return."

"Yes Ma'am. C'mon." Hannah takes Jamie's arm, but gently. "Now yah know what's goin' on Ah got no reason to use the tranqs on yah, so we won't use 'em, Ah promise. My brother's're all dumber than a sack of hammers, but they listen well 'nough, they won't touch yah neither. Let's just get yah home."

...

She's led back out of the house and to the front yard where Tash is now waiting as well, looking nervous and jumpy.

"Jamie? What's going on, no one will tell me anything. Where've you been? Do you know what they're going to do with us now? I can sense you, you're angry, why are you angry, did somethin-"

Jamie can't think fast enough to answer. Positioned a bit behind Tash now, Hannah clears her throat softly and holds up the same gun she'd used on Jamie the day before, a question in her eyes. Jamie nods. Hannah gestures to one of her brothers, who puts himself in position and catches Tash with ease as the dart hits her and she sags, sound asleep a minute later.

"Sorry about yahr friend here." Hannah says, gesturing for her brother to put Tash in the car. "She weren't the target, wasn't tryin' to take her too, but then she come at us like a bat outta hell. Didn't give us no choice."

Jamie gets into the car next to Tash and removes her own coat to ball it up and place it between the other girls head and the window it's leaned against. "Those your kids in there?"

Silence for a moment. Hannah's much quieter and more subdued when she answers. "Yeah. They's mine."

"S'ppose that's why you take jobs from her majesty in there."

"Yeah. That n' keep'n the farm goin'."

"Every wonder what happens to the other poor, unsuspecting bastards yah take just to hand over to her?"

"Ah try not ta. S'the way the world goes 'round, honey. If we said no somebody else'd do the dirty work for 'er, an' Ah done met some of these others she got workin' for her a couple of times. They's a sick bunch. Better we do it than them."

"If you say so, sister."

They're not in New York. It's not much a shock to find this out judging by Hannah's accent, though they can't be too many states away. They're taken out to another field with a landing strip and loaded onto a small private jet. A relatively short jet ride, another car trip, another tranquilizer given to Tash, and they're finally settled back in Jamie's truck ready to go home.

The file rests on the seat next to her, thick and foreboding. But best not to think about it right this minute.

...

"Oh my -"

"Are you alright?"

"What did they give her? Can you tell me your name, dear?"

"Where did they take you? Do you remember -"

They flock to Tash as Jamie helps her stumble out of the truck. She's bustled down to the medlab, examined. Dr. McCoy draws some blood. Examines her further. Ororo Munroe cooks her dinner and gives her an unoccupied room in the teachers wing to rest up away from prying eyes and running mouths.

Jamie, though...well. She doesn't need medical attention. She supposes no one should be worried about her, anyway. She retreats quietly to the girls dorm, which is thankfully deserted as classes are in session.

Her mother finds her there and checks her over and asks, quiet and calm, what had just happened. Jamie explains, though she leaves some details out, she needs to process first.

Her mother looks less concerned, more just weary. "Well, you seem to be alright. This woman didn't tell you anymore than that? You're sure?"

"I'm sure." She'd left out all the important bits, including the file which is now hidden away in her truck. Something tells her there'll be things in there her mother doesn't need to see. "She seemed..upset. With, uhm, with the ones who took us. Said we weren't who they were supposed to be after, I don't know. Really, Ma, I don't."

"It's just awful strange, is all."

"Y'know, we been back since this morning and not once has anyone bothered to ask how I'm actually doin'."

"Tash was in more obvious distress."

"I'm startin' to think there's more to it than that."

Her mother heaves a sigh. "Here's the thing, Jamie..something's happened."

Jamie huffs. "Ah, something more important that your daughters mental state after being kidnapped?"

Her mother scowls. "Well you certainly sound like your doing just fine. Hush and listen. Kelly Montgomery is in the hospital."

Jamie, of course, is not surprised by this news.

Her mother goes on. "He's going to be alright. But the reason he's in there... Jamie. The diner...it's gone...and you don't look too surprised. Why aren't you surprised? What is the matter with you?"

Annoyance wells up, abrupt and slightly irrational. "Jesus, Ma," Jamie barks, harsh, "what the hell do you want from me? They kidnapped us. One of them damn near tore my arm off, popped my shoulder right outta socket, and that one hurt, if anyone f-ing cares, not that it seems they do. They drugged us both and tossed us in a metal cage for hours and I thought shit was really about to hit the fan and I still ain't completely sure it just didn't! Were you even worried? You don't seem to care what even happens to me anymore!"

"That's not true at all and you know it!" Her mother fires back, vehement. "I love you to death but -"

"But what Ma?"

"But you scare the hell out of me, Carol James!"

Silence. Jamie has no answer to that.

Her mother plows on. "I saw something in you years ago, when your step-father...when all of that went down. I saw something in you that I'd started catching glimpses of before, but I denied it even then, I didn't want to acknowledge it because it's the same thing I saw in Logan. Something wild and dangerous and angry and I wanted to think I could teach you to be better. But I failed somehow. I understand that now. You are just like him. And that is far more frightening than you even know."

Jamie's stomach turns, threatening to try and put back it's nonexistent contents. She kinda knew that was coming, but the realization hits her like a freight train. Joan Fletcher doesn't hate Jamie. She's frightened of her. And that..that is some how far worse. Jamie closes her eyes and blows out a breath and nods slow. "Okay. So the diner's gone. What are we doin' about that."

Silence again. A tear slides down Joan's cheek. "I don't...I don't know. I don't know what to do about anything anymore."

"I..say..we head home. For a little while." Jamie suggests. "See if we can sort some stuff out."

"And take you outta school?"

"It'd be nice to see my friends up there, and Kelly. It's possible he was at the diner lookin' for me. I hadn't called him a long time and he knows what kinda crowd I was runnin' with. Might be kinda my fault he's in the hospital now."

"I don't know..."

"Well, why not, anyway? There's some stuff at the house I'd like to grab, too."

"Jamie...the house is...the house is gone." Her mother's voice breaks.

Jamie's heart skips a beat. "What?"

"It's gone. Burnt up. Probably Victor's doing, the body of that poor woman was also nowhere to be found. We don't have a home up there anymore."

Wild Thing roars internally and races to the surface. She gets to her feet and begins pacing, the movement abrupt enough to startle her mother.

"I'm sorry." The older woman stutters some, and then goes on rapidly, almost frantic. "I was going to tell you eventually I just wanted you to get settled in here first Jamie please calm down I know that look on your face there's nothing -"

"Is Logan here?" Wild Thing cuts the old woman off, short.

"Logan? Well, yes, he just got back, but...?"

"We're going to see grandma and grandpa."

"Jamie! Watch your tone, I am still your mother!"

"Please?" Wild Thing adds, contrite as she can manage.

"Well, I suppose, if I phone your grandfather, he'd probably be more than happy to get us plane tickets, but what are you think-"

"Call grandpa then. Don't you wanna go see what the damage is?"

"Well..I suppose...now wait a moment, where are you going?"

Wild Thing ignores her as she stalks off out of the room. She's beyond anger now. This is personal. And there's only one other person who'll fully understand why.

...

"Would you know how to find Victor?"

Logan scowls as his eyes land on her. He plucks the cigar from between his lips and huffs. "Hello to you to, kid."

Wild Thing stalks across the grass to him. "Would you?"

"How the hell would I know where he is?"

"I didn't ask if yah knew, I asked if yah could help me find him."

"Well, what for?"

Wild Thing half snarls. "He destroyed my den, that's what for!"

His eyes flush with gold as the cigar slips from between his fingers. "He did what?"

...

"Logan, this is ridiculous." Joan insists, watching fretfully as he packs a bag. "My father's got the whole thing handled. He had that cabin built himself years ago, he's still got the floor plans, we'll rebuild it just the way it was, it'll just take time."

"That ain't the point, Joanie." He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the rooms only small mirror; his eyes are flushed heavy with gold and that alone is probably enough to set her on edge, but he can't be worried about that now. "He didn't just bust a few windows, he destroyed the only real den Jamie's ever had, I can't forgive that."

"Den? Logan, what are you talking about?" Joan asks, simply bewildered now.

He huffs as he zips up his bag and throws it over his shoulder. "A den, Joanie. Somewhere to nest and feel safe, it's important for a kitling, more than just a place to sleep. I ain't lettin' this one go. I'm comin' back with his head on a platter this time, I mean it. Take the kit up to see your parents, I told 'er not to go off lookin' for Vic on her own cause I'm gonna take care of it. She agreed to trust me but it'll be hard on 'er." He presses a kiss to her temple and stalks off out of the room. His best place to start is probably Canada, right around where Joan and the kit had lived. There'll likely be a trail to find starting there. He just hopes the kit won't catch onto that herself and get any smart ideas.

.

When he gets down to the garage Rogue is there leaning against his truck, arms crossed, a bag slung over her shoulder. So the kit had talked to her too.

"No." He says, not even needing to ask to know what's in her head.

"Yah ain't the boss o' meh." She fires back, haughty. "And yah gonna need someone to watch yah back."

She's not wrong, per se, and she's got a little feral in her after absorbing him so many times, so she probably understands the situation better than he even knows. "Fine. Get in."

.

Joan makes one phone call to her father, just the one, and by the time the evening is out he's sent a private jet down to grab them and has already given her all the information she needs about it. She packs a bag with what little she has, as does Jamie, and they're on the road by midnight.

Jamie barely says a word the whole time. Joan decides it's probably for the best.

...

The plane ride isn't too long, but it is long enough that her mother falls asleep, leaving Jamie time enough to study the file some. She isn't surprised by most of what she finds in there; she already knew her grandmother to be a ruthless old gargoyle. Most of her offenses are related to business practices, some even as petty as threats and intimidation of the competition, but nothing hardcore proveable.

Jamie wonders what the deal is with the diner, though. Why would her grandmother choose to tear that down? There could be many reasons, honestly, but the most likely is that she'd come to hate the place once she realized how well it was prospering. It had become too reliable a source of income for Joan and Jamie; Carol Elizabeth Fletcher's main source of control for anyone around her was money, and the diner made that obsolete. As long as it was still in business, Joan could afford to simply, for the most part, ignore what her mother wanted.

The file contains no legal evidence that could connect Carol Elizabeth to the fire. Really, there probably is nothing like that to connect her to the fire. She'd have been too thorough to leave a loose end. The file does contain something else, though. Something...oh. A wicked little smirk graces Jamie's lips. Oh, that's beautiful. She knows just what to do with it, too. She sets it aside neatly for later use.

A small alarm blares as the plane is jostled about some. Jamie checks her mother as the pilot instructs via intercom that seatbelts should be buckled; the older woman had never taken hers off, having intended from the start to sleep through the flight. The turbulence isn't enough to wake her, the woman sleeps like a log. Jamie buckles herself in and reaches for the file again. Having already found what she needed, she doesn't feel as though she needs to keep searching through it, and reaches out to tuck it back in her bag on the seat across from her.

The plane shakes again, a little more violently. Caught a touch of guard, she loses some of her grip on the folder, and a stack of papers she'd missed at the very back falls out and to the floor.

Brows furrowing as she glimpses the pictures on top, she sets the folder aside and picks the errant papers up. The pictures...

 _Jamie and Tierney Doran, hanging out in front of the small house Tierny rented for the longest time. Jamie and Hunter, in a park, playing basketball. Jamie... Jamie at the Warehouse. In a cage, fighting. Jamie sitting with Tierney on one side of her and Hunter's brother on the other, around a bonfire at someones house, beers in hand while T hands Jamie a cigarette._

What the hell, what the hell, what the hell...? Jamie grows more disturbed the further she looks.

 _Jamie with just Hunter again, both with a mischievous look in their eyes, clearly up to no good as they approach an expensive car. Jamie sending Hunter a triumphant smirk when the car proves to be unlocked. Hunter showing her how to hot wire the thing._

What the hell, what the hell, what the...? She remembers that. Like it was yesterday, though it was about a year ago, just after they'd found her step-father's car and she'd broken up with Kelly. The whole thing had been a petty revenge plot born of a self-destructive need for distraction; some other rich girl at school had insulted her and Jamie had remembered that the other girl was so naively confident no one would dare mess with her car that she never locked the thing. She and Hunter had gone for a joy ride in it and gotten caught but...

Oh God. Just behind the pictures, at the top of the stack of papers beneath, is a police report citing her and Hunter as unquestionably being the delinquents behind it. Jamie had bribed the hell out of the cop with her fight money (technically dirty money, to boot, as the Warehouse is an 'underground' ring), a move she now felt somewhat remorseful over. Her mom was friends with the cop's wife. Their kid was seriously sick, which is why she knew he'd need the money. It was a nasty move to pull, but Jamie and Hunter hadn't actually hurt or even really bothered anybody with their little stunt save for the bitchy princess who owned the car, and the cop got a sizable stack of bills to put towards his kids hospital expenses. So there was no real harm done.

The report he'd actually submitted had, as she understood it, declared the car to be abandoned by the side of the road. It had been untampered with save for the hot wiring, and was sporting not a scratch, two facts which he likely emphasized to drive home the point of there being no sense in pursuing the case further. The report she's holding now is clearly the original, one he likely wrote whilst still unsure of whether he would keep the bribe, and there's a note on the back written neatly in cursive bearing the amount of money she'd handed over to the cop and a simple ' _We Know You, Ms. Fletcher_ '.

And it doesn't end there. There's more pictures and reports written on her by some spy or other, most all of it being records of her engaging in the sort of activities that highlight just how _not innocent_ she really is.

How? How how how? How could she have not seen or heard or picked up any kind of sign that someone was watching her like this? It seems impossible, it seems, it's...it's totally plausible. She'd had no idea. No reason to think she'd have caught the interest of anyone that important, the police never found any real connection between her and the death of her step-father. Why would she have even begun to guess at some kind of secretive, nefarious shadow-agency taking an interest in her? This is insane.

This is...

But then, she'd brought it on herself. She'd been stupid, hadn't she? So, so stupid. A girl like her? Stocky but barely five feet tall all the same. A girl like her jumping in the cages like that and giving men twice her size a total beat down and barely breaking a sweat while she was at it? Of course she'd attracted some attention. It was inevitable.

God, she feels as though she may throw up.

The pilot's voice comes over the intercom again. They'll be landing soon. Jamie tucks all the files away back into her back, zipping it up and trying to take deep, calming breaths. Nows not the time for an 'oh, shit' moment. Right now she needs to think with her head.

Her head brings her to only one sensible conclusion. She knows who could give her some advice, at the very least.

Joan stirs awake of her own accord as the pilot sends them out one last reminder of some safety related things. "Jamie?"

"Right here, Ma. Did..did you sleep well?"

"Yes, I slept alright. You seem wide awake, didn't you try to nap?"

Jamie can barely control the nervous trembling of her hands. Her voice wavers. "Oh, yeah, yeah, I tried, I just...got too much on my mind, I guess."

"Breathe, sweetheart. We're going to get this all sorted out, I promise."

Jamie remembers her original mission here. Better to try and handle one thing at a time, right? She takes in a deep breath and lets it out slow. Just..one little thing at a time. "I know, Ma. I'm ok. I promise."

Her mother leaves it alone from there. The plane lands at a small airport this time, it takes them a while to get things sorted.

"Oh that's odd, your grandfather promised the car would already be here to pick us up but I'm sure I don't..." Her mother looks around, bewildered and frustrated. The family's Rolls Royce is no where to be seen.

Jamie seizes the opportunity. "Hey Ma, is it alright if I go make a phone call? I..uhm..just wanna check on Tash, someone should be awake back at the school by now."

"Oh, sure, of course dear." Joan answers, absent minded.

Jamie wanders off, gathers her thoughts a moment, and pulls up the number on her phone.

It rings. Once. Twice. Three time... "Fletch?" The voice on the other end sounds shocked. "Jamie? Jamie, hello? Are you there?"

"Yeah." Jamie has to force the words out. "Yeah, T. It's me. And I'm..I think I may be in trouble again."

Silence for a beat. A sigh. "When aren't you, short stuff? Alright. Tell me what's up now."

Jamie gives a nervous chuckle. "Well. Ah." She stares down at the folder she'd just taken out of bag, studying the symbol on it's cover a bit. "You ever heard of a symbol with a snake eatin' it's own tail?"


	9. Consequences 1

It rings. Once. Twice. Three time... "Fletch?" The voice on the other end sounds shocked. "Jamie? Jamie, hello? Are you there?"

"Yeah." Jamie has to force the words out. "Yeah, T. It's me. And I'm..I think I may be in trouble again."

Silence for a beat. A sigh. "When aren't you, short stuff? Alright. Tell me what's up now."

Jamie gives a nervous chuckle. "Well. Ah." She stares down at the folder she'd just taken out of bag, studying the symbol on it's cover a bit. "You ever heard of a symbol with a snake eatin' it's own tail?"

"No. No, I think that's a new one to me." Tierney answers. "But I've been tryin' to keep my head down and take it easy here lately, so that doesn't mean much. I can ask around about it. You safe enough for right now?"

"Yeah, pretty sure I am. Just...a little on edge. I'll call yah again later, maybe we can meet so I can explain. Just look into that symbol for me, please?"

"I'll get right on it and keep my phone close. Try to take a deep breath, kid, you sound pretty strung out."

Jamie promises she'll try to chill, and then hangs up in favor of finding her mother again. The car that's meant to pick them up appears with perfect timing, and Jamie braces herself. Now she has to face her grandmother.

...

Jamie's grandfather is the one that greets them. "Relax, my dears. Carol's on a business trip and won't return for a few days yet. Come out to the dining room, we'll worry about your bags later, breakfast is waiting."

Jamie can smell that. Waffles and sausage and eggs, it smells like heaven. They sit and begin eating, while her grandfather keeps the conversations steered towards lighter topics - gently asking about New York and the school and whether Jamie's made any new friends and then slowly leading up to the question of what Jamie's gifts are. Gifts. The word leaves his mouth so seemelessly, there's not a hint of anything in his voice or expression to suggest he's anything but curious.

She shows him her claws, and how the skin between her knuckles stitches itself back together after, and explains about her enhanced senses - the fact she can clearly smell pipe tobacco on him from halfway across the room. "You better hope grandma doesn't notice!" She teases.

He grins in delight. "That's marvelous! Impressive, very impressive! Oh, I only wish you hadn't felt the need to hide it all so long. They are such beautiful gifts to be given."

Jamie feels like crying at the sincerity in his voice. She comes over to wrap him in a hug. "I love you, grandpa."

"And I you, sweet girl." He presses a kiss to her temple. "Don't forget it."

...

They go to see the house and the diner but there isn't much left to check out. The house is still standing but everything inside is charred and hardly recognizable, and the diner itself is quite thoroughly burned to rubble.

"We'll get the house sorted at the least." Her grandfather assures gently, speaking mostly to Joan, who is sobbing quietly.. "I have enough in my own savings for that. As for the diner, well, I'm sure your mother can be persuaded.."

Jamie scoffs at the thought, but bites her tongue.

...

Blue eyes flutter open slow. They sweep the room a bit just lazily as one hand trails up to scrub itself over his face, a yawn slipping past his lips. He's adorable when he's sleepy.

Jamie clears her throat softly. "Hey."

Kelly starts but only just a bit; his eyes land on her and a smile spreads his lips. "Oh. Hey yourself."

"How're yah feelin'?"

"Could be worse. God, it's good to see you."

She takes his hand in her own and brings it up to her cheek so she can nuzzle against it a bit, mindful of the bandages on his arm. "S'good to see you too. I'm sorry. I should've called or somethin' I just..."

"It's okay. I was probably more worried than I should've been. Where've you been, though? It's been months."

She looks into his big blue eyes, so honest and full of kindness, and she just can't help herself. He'd insisted on remaining her friend even after the breakup and she owes him more than she'd given him since they first met even.

"That's a long story. But I think it's high time I did explain some stuff so..here goes nothin'."

.

He's laughing. She can't for the life of her understand why. But he's laughing his fool head off.

"I'm..sorry." He gasps out, trying to calm himself. "It's just...you really don't understand...oh my God."

"Don't understand what? What the hell are you laughin' at?"

"Darlin'...I knew!"

Silence. Jamie stares at him for a good, long minute, saying nothing. "What."

"I knew like a month into datin' you that you were a mutant!"

She hits him. (Not too hard. He's injured already, after all.) "Seriously, Kelly? You guessed it all on your own and just never bothered to bring it up, what's wrong with you?"

"Hey!" He rubs at his shoulder where her fist had connected with it. "Easy there! I thought about bringin' it up several times but I just never could figure how to start the conversation, you were clearly pretty intent on hiding it and I don't blame yah for that. I only realized it myself when we were ridin' that one day and the horses got spooked. You were thrown far enough that anyone else would've been some kinda hurt, but you were just fine."

Fair enough. No one else had been confronted with such startlingly overwhelming evidence of her mutation until recently. The incident Kelly's referring too had been a strange one revolving around a group of hunters that strayed a little too close to the land surrounding Kelly's ranch; they'd fired at a massive stag and the noise had spooked the horses she and Kelly had been riding. Kelly's horse was older and more easily calmed; Jamie's was younger and a little too skittish.

Jamie sighs. "Yeah. Ok. That makes sense. Any other bombs yah wanna drop on me while we're at it?"

A sheepish sort of half smile graces lips. "Well. Uh. Yeah, actually. I'm one too."

She just blinks at him, head tilted in that 'curious puppy' way.

"Literal animal whispering. I can talk to them and they me, impressively well with some of them. It's just kind of...un-spectacular by most peoples standards." He explains haltingly. "I don't stand out like you do."

"So that's why your father bought the ranch for you." She answers, realization dawning. "You don't just enjoy working it, you're the best suited person for it."

He nods. "Yeah, I guess that's the just of it. That's why we stopped raising the cattle and started raising sheep and boarding horses instead. I mean, I don't care one way or another about eatin' meat, s'just the circle of life I guess, but I'd get attached helpin' to raise 'em. Can't do it myself."

"Well. Ok then."

"Ok then."

There's a pause, short if a little awkward, and then Jamie grins. "Hey. D'yah trust me?"

His brows furrow a touch in curiosity but his answer comes quick and honest. "Always, beautiful."

She takes his hand and presses it to her cheek again, closes her eyes, blows out a breath, and hopes she'll be able to do this. "Try not to freak out, alright? Brace yourself a bit, this won't be exactly pleasant, but I know what I'm doing." Mostly. She'd practiced this some more with Dr. McCoy as an over-excited guinea pig during a few quiet sessions in the medlab, so she knows it wasn't a fluke the first few times. She just hasn't had to try and heal anything as widespread as the damage over poor Kelly's body. But even if she can't fix him up all the way it'll still be a help to him.

Kelly squeezes her hand. "Completely trust yah."

She starts to concentrate. Thinks of the bandages on his cheek and his arm and his shoulder and then thinks of all the times she'd been ill or hurt as a child before she could heal like she can now. Thinks of how badly she hates to see him like this. Make him better. Make him better. Make him better.

He gasps, a short, sharp intake of breath. His hand squeezes hers painful tight, and then he curses, low and sharp.

She holds on until her head starts to feel heavy and her hands start to shaking, and then decides she probably shouldn't be pushing it in public like this just for the sake of experimentation. She lets his hand go and waits the few moments it'll take to get her bearings again.

"J-Jamie." Kelly gasps.

The machines he'd been attached do are going a bit haywire; his heart rate is way up, which is to be expected.

Jamie opens her eyes and looks him over.

Oh. Well..shit. He looks...

He tears off one of the bandages on his arm, eyes wide. "You..you..oh my God." It's healed. Completely. Scarred, but there's no open wound, and it's a safe bet the rest of his body is just as well off now.

There's some kind of alarm triggered, probably by his heart rate and blood pressure as both are heavily elevated (albeit with excitement, not because there's anything wrong). He glances at the machines and then, to Jamie's shock, reaches out to pull her in close for a kiss. "You're an angel in blue jeans and I love the hell out of you James Fletcher," he shoves her towards the door, "now get the hell out of here before someone else realizes what the hell just happened, yah beautiful, reckless bitch."

She winks at him and does just as he'd suggested, slipping out the door of his room just a brigade of nurses slips in. They pay her no mind, as they've not yet got reason to. She walks down to the elevators, waits calmly for them to take her down, and then walks just as calmly out and towards her truck.

Damn. She actually did something right for once.

...

It's only half past two in the afternoon by the time she gets back to her grandparent's mansion.

Her mother looks startled. "You're pale as a ghost, are you feeling alright? Come here, let me..." The older woman darts over and presses a hand to Jamie's forehead fretfully.

Jamie rolls her eyes. "You know Dr. McCoy says I'm kind of always running a higher temp than everyone else, right?"

"Oh. Right. Well, are you feeling sick, I mean..?"

"No, Ma. I'm ok. Think I just need some sleep." She hides behind a short curtain of hair, a little sheepish. "I got a little impulsive earlier."

Her mother studies her, brows furrowed. And then her eyes widen as realization dawns. "Oh. You tried to..how'd it go?"

"Somethin' tells me Kelly won't be cooped up in that awful hospital room for too much longer."

Her mother softens, pressing a kiss to Jamie's forehead. "That's my sweet girl."

...

It's nearing a week they've been there when Carol Elizabeth finally calls her husband to inform him she'll be home the next morning. Upon arriving at the Fletcher mansion, she looks Jamie over, turns up her nose, and passes her right up.

"Joan!" She sashays over to her daughter instead. "Oh, my darling, come, you look exhausted, lets go fix some tea and we'll talk about things."

Joan hesitates, stealing a glance at Jamie.

"I'm good, Ma. Probably gonna wander off again for a bit if that's alright."

"Well..alright. Just try not to be gone all day."

"I won't. Grandma and I have some things to talk about too, actually."

Her grandmother's eyebrows raise, but she says nothing. Joan plants a kiss on Jamie's cheek and sends her off.

...

"T!" Jamie spots her friend, seated comfortably at the bar of a roadside diner several miles from the town Jamie's grandparents live in.

"There yah are, Short Stuff! I was startin' to think yah weren't gonna show." Tierny Doran grins as she pats the seat next to her. "And oh..my God, you cut your hair. Jesus, girl, any shorter and you'd look like a twelve year old boy."

Jamie rolls her eyes, huffing. "The hair. Always the hair, why does everyone have a problem with the hair? Screw you, anyway!"

Tierney laughs as she reaches out to tussle the short mop of brunette waves in question. "Awww, learn to take a joke, kid."

The waitress comes over to ask Jamie if she wants anything; T tells her to order a burger, and she does.

"So..not that it ain't good to see yah, T, but I got other shit to worry about, too. You manage to find anything out about...?"

"I called a few of my girls, but if any of them know something, they ain't talkin'." Tierney shrugs. "Which isn't surprising. We got good reason to keep our heads buried in the sand lately, but that's another story altogether. But there's a guy I know, met with him last night. He's got some debts he's tryin' to pay back, makes him easy to persuade. He didn't seem to know too much, but he did know the name you're lookin' for is Ouroboros. That's what the symbol is according to him. I don't know, I'd never heard of it before, but I guess there's some sort of shadow organization that's been usin' it for ages. Only other thing he could tell me, though, was that you're probably not in any danger. If they want you for something, they'll want you to come to them willingly, so they'll play nice for now."

Well that doesn't make her feel too much better, but it does help her relax a little bit. Jamie blows out a breath as the waitress comes over with her food. "Well. This'll be fun, then."

"Hey, I'm always a phone call away if yah need me."

"Thanks, T."

.

The air is chilly but there's no wind by the time they leave the diner and the day is a beautiful one. T offers Jamie a cigarette, and they stand outside near her car for a while, staring up at a cloudless sky.

"You think you could get away with sneakin' out for a bit tonight?" T asks.

"Huh. Maybe. Why, what's up?"

"They miss yah up at the Warehouse."

Jamie laughs. "Yeah, I kinda miss them, too. Awww, I don't know, though. I promised my Ma..."

"Just one night? Tell her you're hangin' out with friends or somethin'."

"She's never even liked any of the friends I have up here, T."

"Yeah, but she never stopped you before, either."

That's..a fair point.

"Eh. Maybe."

...

"You're grandfather wants to take me out for dinner, I guess he wants to talk about something. Will you be alright here with your grandmother?" Joan seems fretful.

"Course I will, Ma. I might go see some friends tonight, actually." Jamie tries to be casual.

"Friends? Which friends?"

"Oh. Just..T. She's gonna have a bonfire. Or somethin'."

"Awful cold for that."

"Doesn't bother me."

Joan sighs. "Call me, and don't be out too late. I think you and I need to talk, with everything that's been going on, I know it's been hard on you and my attitude hasn't helped. You're my daughter and I know you've been trying to be better, I'm proud of you for that."

Jamie presses a kiss to the older woman's cheek. "I promise I'll call, and that I'll be home. I love you, Ma. Go enjoy dinner with Grandpa!"

...

"...well now, I don't care what the circumstances are, I need him on this new project, so you'll just have to tell the police to mind their own business, unless they have a warrant which I highly doubt. For pity's sake, what am I even paying you for if you can't..." Carol Elizabeth spits fire at one of her poor attorneys, who's no doubt been doing his best and doesn't deserve the verbal onslaught of abuse.

She doesn't need to hear about her grandmother's sleazy corporate escapades. She knows what kinda stuff the old witch has been up to. Rolling her eyes as the conversation drones on, Jamie closes the door pointedly loud, clearing her throat as she does so.

Her grandmother stops talking abruptly and aims a scowl in Jamie's direction. "Oh what do you want?"

"You may want to hang up first."

"i beg your pardon?"

Jamie stalks across the room and tosses a series of pictures down onto the old mahogany desk her grandmother is sitting behind.

Carol Elizabeth stares down at them, stone faced, and brings her phone back to her ear. "Don't call me again unless you have some good news for me." She hangs up and brings her hands up to rest her chin on them. "Alright. I'd ask where you got these from but something tells me that's not going to be the important part of this conversation, so we'll skip it. What do you want?"

"Nothing elaborate. Just money enough to rebuild the diner."

The old woman's brows furrow in genuine confusion. "I could buy you a yacht. Or a cabin somewhere, you could go skiing whenever you please. Or perhaps a nice, long vacation once you graduate! You could wander off backpacking through Europe for the next five years without needing to worry about a thing! My company is worth millions more than all the property in that backwoods little town combined and all you want is to rebuild that rinky-dink little diner?"

"Alright. Listen good , because I'm only gonna explain this once." Jamie leans over the desk, half growling. "Ma and I never gave a shit about your fortune. You can take it to your grave in stacks and be buried with it for all that either of us gives a rats ass. All I want is for you to buzz off and leave Ma the hell alone. So here's the deal." She shoves a particular photo at her grandmother - it shows the old woman in a rather compromising position with the man who snuck in to sabotage the diner's fire extinguishers. "You give my Ma enough money to build her life back up in that backwoods little town that she happens to love. To make sure everyone feels like they won the game, I'll change my last name to my father's the day I turn eighteen, and you can go back to pretending I don't exist. If you refuse, I show these pictures to poor grandpa. We all know what a pile of human garbage you are but I doubt he'll be happy if confronted with this." She gathers the pictures back up just as her grandmother tries to swipe them away. "Oh, no. I need the insurance you won't even think of pulling a stunt like this again. We got a deal or not, old woman?"

Silence. A staring contest ensues; Jamie tucks the pictures away in her jacket for safe keeping and crosses her arms. Carol Elizabeth heaves a heavy, tired sigh and reaches for a drawer of her...

Oh.

It's a gun she pulls out. An old, long barreled pistol, the handle plated with ivory and monogrammed. Carol Elizabeth points it right at her grandaughter. "You know, with a will strong as yours it's really a pity this is what it's come to. You could've made it so much farther in life."

Jamie just blinks at the pistol. Oh, right. Her grandmother doesn't know, which makes the whole situation almost comical, but before Jamie can open her mouth there's a bang. The bullet tears through the left side of her chest. All goes blank.

..."I'm going to need your help again." Carol Elizabeth's voice is muffled, sounding oddly distant. She seems to be on the phone again. "Yes, yes, I know it's the third time, it couldn't be helped. I'll pay you double but you must be here..."

She can feel the bullet. Knows exactly where it had lodged itself because it's working it's way free and her heart had just restarted itself. Oh. Shit. Her heart had stopped. Her heart had stopped. Oh shit, oh wow, how even...?

She works her way into a sitting position. Her grandmother has her back turned and is still on the phone, arguing with someone. Jamie looks down and stares in morbid fascination as her shoulder spits the bullet back out; it tumbles down to bounce off her leg and hit the floor, splattering a small amount of blood on the rug next to her.

"Son of a bitch."

Carol Elizabeth turns slowly, brows furrowed. "What..what in the name of...?"

Jamie climbs to her feet, voice low and gruff. "That one hurt. That one really hurt." Wild Thing breaks free of her mental cage and races to the surface; stalks toward the old woman slow and deliberately menacing.

"How?" Her grandmother stumbles back.

"Surprise. Takes more than a bullet to kill a Wild Thing."

"Alright. Alright, fine. I'll..I'll give you whatever you want." Her grandmother's back hits the wall. She smells of fear now. Absolutely reeks of it, actually.

Wild Thing takes the old woman by the collar of her dainty blouse, pulling her down so they're face to face. "Yeah. I know yah will. Write the check, old woman. Now." She shoves her towards the desk.

With shaking hands Carol Elizabeth pulls out her check book and a pen and begins writing. "H-how much...?"

"Surprise me." Jamie growls between gritted teeth. Her blood heats up as she eyes the gun now sitting on the desk. She can hear her heart pounding in her ears. The old woman was going to kill her. Her grandmother had just tried to kill her. Wild Thing suddenly wants nothing more than to reach out and tear the old woman's head off, nasty mean old bitch how could she be so cold, does pack mean nothing to her what kind of woman does something like this?

Carol Elizabeth hands the check over; Jamie snatches it away with hands that are trembling with rage now. The old woman's so skinny, so frail, Wild Thing wouldn't even break a sweat...

Jesus. No, no, no, she needs to... She tucks the check away for safekeeping and staggers out of the room. She can't think. Her blood is boiling, boiling, boiling, she feels on fire with the rage, she wants to, she needs to...

It's getting late enough. Completely forgetting her earlier promise to her mother, she gets in the car her grandfather had happily given her use of, and drives.

.

Yeah, yah got me, leave a message, yah know the drill.

Beeep.

Jamie, it's your mother, you promised you'd call, are you alright? It's getting late. I love you.

.

She sort of loses pockets of time. She doesn't remember speeding down the back roads she knows so well. She does sort of remembers arriving at the Warehouse, and Hunters enthusiastic greeting. Remembers trying to push Wild Thing back as T holds out a large flask full of moonshine.

"You sounded pretty strung out again when yah called me earlier, so I got yah a special kinda pick-me-up. I know yah just asked for a pocket of high and I ain't usually in the business of handin' anything else off to a teenager but hell, you sure as hell ain't like any other kid I know, anyway."

She can't hold Wild Thing back. She can't, the animal, it wants something, something she can't give it, something... Dear God she'd just been shot, her heart stopped but she's not dead. What kind of freak doesn't die from that? Not that she wants to be dead. But she should be.

She was supposed to call her mother, but her hands tremble and she reaches for the flask instead, shoots the stuff like a pro and chugs a beer to wash it down.

Then everything is a blur again for a while, her throat burns from the stupidly strong alcohol, then she's in a cage and Wild Thing takes damn near full control. Bones break. None of them belong to her. The crowd roars. Wild Thing, Wild Thing, Wild Thing. More mooneshine, more beer, another fight. She has no idea how many times she rinses and repeats.

What time is it? 2 a.m., Tierney tells her.

She's drunk.

Then it's her and Hunter in a storage closet doing...well.

She's really drunk.

Oh shit. Somewhere in there she does remember, Ma.

Oh God. Mom.

I'm sorry.

...

Music blares. Loud, oh shit, why so loud? Wait a minute. That songs familiar - oh.

Jamie curses as her eyes shoot open. The room is flooded with sunlight, painful bright, and she's..laying on the floor. Where is she...

"You know, you're gonna have to pick that phone up eventually." T's voice carries across the house, tone casual.

It's T's house, Jamie realizes. That's right. She sort of remembers T bringing her here, along with Hunter and a bunch of other older guys, they'd kept drinking long after the Warehouse would've shut down for the night.

Jamie shoots to a sitting position, cursing again. "What time is it?"

Hunter's still asleep just next to her, shirtless; he barely stirs. His back is covered in angry red scratches, his neck in round little love-bite bruises, some that look like she'd actually bit him. Had Jamie done that?

No. Wild Thing had.

T strolls into the room from her kitchen, hands tucked into her pockets. "Noon. You and the rest of these losers kept me up until like 5:30 this mornin'." She explains, trying to be playful, but she won't really look at Jamie and seems almost..skittish. "I've got some eggs and bacon ready in the kitchen if yah think yah can stomach it."

"Noon. Awww..." Jamie shoots to her feet. "Where's my jacket?"

"Over here."

"Thanks. Sorry, T, but I gotta bail, my Ma's gonna murder me, I swear."

"Fair 'nough. Take it easy with that car of yours, kid, it looks expensive and hell, I don't know how you made it here in the thing last night."

"Wait. Shit. You let me.. you let me drive?" Jamie raises an eyebrow, incredulous. She'd been in her grandfather's car. He'd been trusting enough not to ask questions, either.

T scowls. "Uh, were you with yourself last night? I wasn't about to get in your way with how hard yah were hittin' 'em in that cage. Yah near bit my head off when I half tried. I ain't gonna lie, kid, yah had a look in yahr eyes...was makin' me nervous as hell."

"Shit. Uh, sorry, yeah, I..wasn't myself last night. I just...sorry." Her phone had started ringing again but her thoughts are hazy, her fingers fumble it and she rejects the call on accident. She stares down at the screen. Thirty five missed calls...from her grandfather.

Her mother called just once, and didn't appear to have bothered again.

...

"Oh my God Mom," Jamie sprints into the living room, hearing her mother's voice, "I'm so sorry I don't know what I was thinkin', don't even have an excuse, I just...Ma?"

The older woman is curled up calm and quiet in the love seat at the far end of the room. She's got a phone to her ear. "Never mind." She tells whoever is on the other end. "She's home, anyway."

Jamie can't hear what he says, but she can tell that it's Logan on the other end, and he's sounds as pissed off as Joan does calm.

"Yes, well, feel free to tell her that yourself."

"Ma?" Jamie presses. "Where's grandpa? I know he was trying to call, I've just been..I was with T and some friends of hers. That's all."

Her mother only sighs, and continues talking to Logan. "I'll call you when I get up to Alberta." She hangs up, gets to her feet, crosses the room to face Jamie. She seems...she's too calm. "You're grandfather's got everything handled here. He told me last night that the cabin up in Alberta has been cleaned out and refurbished, he'd planned to vacation there with your grandmother but thinks I could use the getaway."

"Oh. S'ppose he's right. So..so that's where you'll be?"

"For a little while, you'll be returning to school, of course. I had thought to forget about all that and just take you with me but it's become quite clear that's not the way to go."

"Ma." Jamie feels tears welling up. She's such a mess she just wants a hug and is right on the verge of just begging for it but her mother sounds so cold. "I can explain. I should've in the first place, when Tash and I were taken I -"

Her mother closes her eyes and shakes her head. "Stop. I don't care about any of that right now. Your grandmother said you ran off in a hurry last night, that you weren't yourself, Jamie... I'm going to ask you to just tell the truth one last time. What were you up to yesterday? Were you on something? You can tell me. Logan has a history of..."

"Wait, what? Like - like drugs?" Jamie snorts. "Is that what the old bitch implied? Oh God, Mom come with me, there's somethin' I need to..."

"Jamie, don't, that's enough. I know you and your grandmother don't get along but the line has to be drawn somewhere."

"I was at the Warehouse last night. That's all, I was..."

"That's all? As if skulking around a place like that is normal behavior for a teenager? I can't do this, Jamie. You're scaring me and I'm so tired. I'm sending you back down to school, I've already informed Logan and Ororo of what you've possibly been up to, you'll find them a lot less forgiving. It's for your own good. Whatever you were up to with these friends of yours here, it ends now."

"I'm not on drugs, Ma! Won't yah listen? The truth is -"

"We're well past time for that, Jamie, I gave you plenty of chances." Joan comes forward and presses a kiss to her daughters cheek, a single tear running down hers. "I love you. Listen to Logan and Ororo. I'll join you there when I don't feel like I'm going to lose my own mind anymore."

With that, she leaves.

Jamie collapses. Pulls her knees to her chest, and just cries.

...

By the next day she knows just what to do.

First she takes the check her grandmother had written out, snaps a picture of it with her phone, and places it at the bottom of the suitcase containing Joan's clothes. She then sends the picture to the number on the business card the Ouroboros lady had given her. Job finished.

It isn't hard to sneak back out to her grandfather's car. Miraculously, there's not a scratch on the thing. She reaches for the glove compartment; a massive wad of bills falls out. Money. A lot of it. Just the promise of the possibility of her showing up at the Warehouse had been enough to draw a massive crowd. She's gonna miss the place.

Heaving a sigh, she pockets the money. She thinks about tucking the pictures of her grandmother being unfaithful in there instead, but thinks better of it. She'd gotten enough money out of the old woman to fix the diner up.

It's not Jamie's problem from there.

...

Logan's still off taking care of his 'feral-man-cat-head-hunting' mission, and Jamie's thankful for that. Ororo's the one who comes to get her from the airport, and though she seems warier of Jamie now, she doesn't lecture her. Jamie, in turn, resolves to be as respectful as she knows how to be, which mostly just involves her using the words 'yes ma'am' excessively and keeping her mouth shut otherwise.

They aren't at the Mansion for long before Ororo brings Jamie down to her office; she'd set up a face-to-face chat with Anna at the sassy southerner's request. The Weather Witch leaves the office and closes the door, allowing Jamie privacy.

"Logan's not around on your end, is he?" Jamie asks before the other girl can even say anything.

"Nah, he run off and left me here in the hotel room, said he wanted to check somethin' out, Lawd only knows what - yah know, Ah'd swear, yah look like someone just drowned yah puppy." Anna scoffs. "Cheer up, sweetpea! I bet Jake and Tash have been missin' the hell outta you, and it's almost Christmas!"

"Yeah, and Ma left to go hide out in some dusty old ski lodge by herself."

Anna clucks her tongue. "Sounds like time away is just what she needs. Gotta think of what's good for her too, yah know."

Jamie stares at the screen in silence, not really looking at Anna. Not ignoring her either, just busy thinking.

"So where were yah the other night?" Anna questions. "Logan called 'Ro fit to be tied 'cause yah'd run off and disappeared on yahr Ma for somethin' like thirteen hours. Must've been quite a party."

The hint of a smirk graces Jamie's lips. "Hell yeah, it was. I was..."

"Awww c'mon, sweetpea, yah know Ah don't judge."

"I was at the Warehouse. Friend brought me some of her favorite poison, guess I hit it a little too hard. Not a mistake I'll make again."

"Awww, sure yah will, s'the name of the game at yahr age, ain't it?" Anna waves it off. "Mean, disappearin' on yahr Ma like that, now that's not a move Ah'd reccomend makin' again, Ah guess, but yah're allowed to be a kid yah know."

Jamie shrugs. "Yeah, I guess."

"So what were yah tryin' to forget?"

Jamie raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"Ah know what it takes to get someone with healin' like yours drunk." Anna answers, tone oddly casual. "Logan clears out half a shelf at any given liquor store when he wants to get wasted, and that's usually when he's got somethin' he wants to forget. And he's old and gettin' kinda slower. Ah know you had to be hittin' it hard. So what happened?"

"Well, I don't know if I should... I mean it's a long story."

"Yeah, and clearly whatever it is, yah're in way over yahr head."

"You don't give up too easy, do yah?"

"Never. Talk to meh and Ah'll tell yah where I've got a couple smokes stashed in my room, Ah know yah like those just as much as Logan does."

Jamie contemplates her friend for a minute, deliberating. "And you don't tell anyone else what I said for now, especially Logan."

"Deal." Anna answers readily. "Now spill already!"

Jamie spills.

.

"You know, Ah have heard and seen some pretty messed up stuff but Ah gotta hand it to yah sweetpea, that's ten different kinds of 'what the fuck?'. Yah're grandma's got some issues."

"Understatement of the century." Jamie rakes a hand through her hair. "So..that's about it. Creepy shadow agency, people spying on me, Grandma's a greedy murderous nutjob, house I grew up in is completely destroyed, my Ma thinks I'm on drugs even though I'm totally not, and to top it off, T's not answering my phone calls. But... I'm not dead. So...I got that going for me." She thinks on it all for a minute and huffs, burying her face in her hands. "Ugh, I'm actually starting to wish for the alternative."

"Don't." Anna cuts in quickly. "Alive is good. You're safe at the mansion. Behave yourself and just do your usual thing for now and tell me as soon as these Ouroboros people contact you again. Until they do there's no use worrying about it, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess not."

There's the sound of a door opening in the background on Anna's end. She swears sharply. "Wolvie's back, gotta go. Don't answer if he calls you, he ain't got nothin' good to say and you don't need the extra negativity right now."

"Thanks Anna!"

"Anytime, sweetpea."

Jamie slumps back in her seat, blowing out a relieved breath. _Well. At least somebody's on my side._


	10. Meanwhile1: Logan and Rogue

**_Sorry for the wait, folks. Computer went down on me at the wrong moment and my next few chapters got erased will I was sectioning them up. I'm mostly back on track now._**

 ** _For those of you who are wondering: Rogue and Logan will likely end up together, I'm willing to say that much, but I have a pretty full story already, and you'll have to just ride it out with me if you want to get to that. I wrote this purely because I daydream and I simply like to write. I'm posting it because I figured, why not? So, respectfully, If all you were looking for was a pairing of them, you might've come to the wrong place._**

 ** _Now, on with the story! :)_**

 ** _..._**

"Somethin' about all this seems fishy to meh."

"Things with Victor are always fishy."

"Yeah, but this times different, we found this place too easy."

"I know. This hellhole ain't his den. He was just usin' the place to crash."

Something itches at the edges of her mind. Something..something in the air.

A board creaks, so soft she only just hears it. She and Logan both spin around to face eachother, brown eyes meeting hazel.

"S'not him." Logan says with certainty. "He'd have come to face me by now."

Rogue peers around the decrepit, dimly lit cabin, breathing deep. "Feral."

"What?"

"Don't you smell it? Might not be him but it is a..."

Logan catches it just as another board creaks. "Feral." He finishes for her quietly, and then presses a finger to his lips. Shh.

More boards creak, Rogue can almost hear scampering footsteps. Awful lot of them, maybe multiple sets? She stays put as Logan's eyes flush gold and he wanders off further into the cabin. Rogue can sneak too, but not well enough to creep up on another feral.

More boards creak. Rogue whirls around, heart pounding hard in her ears, hackles raising, fists clenching as the ghost of a strange kind of itch starts up in her knuckles, muscles tensed as she readies to defend herself...

Oh.

A small, slim figure in a ragged but clean old dress. She freezes, eyes wider than a deer in headlights, the slightest of gasps escaping her lips.

Before Rogue can make a move to reach out to the poor, terrified thing, the Wolverine reappears and places one large hand on the kit's shoulder. He doesn't appear to be trying for intimidating, the look on his face is one of bewilderment, but he's so large and scruffy that the kit takes one look at him and darts from his loose grip like a rabbit. She bounds across the room in a few silent strides, latches onto Rogue's leg, and hides herself behind the Southerner with a whimper. Rogue, in turn, without having to think about it, reaches down and runs a soothing hand through the girls hair, her strokes gentle and slow so as not to scare the kit further. She's tall but so thin it's hard to tell how old she is. "S'alright, little one. Ah know he looks scary but he ain't gonna hurt yah."

Wolverine eyes Rogue oddly.

"What?"

He opens his mouth, shuts it, and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Somethin' to talk about later, maybe. S'funny, thought I heard another one but -"

Before he can go on, a slightly bigger and far wilder blur falls down from the balcony over head and lands right on Logan's shoulders. The next moments are chaos. Logan growls, his half-pint attacker snarls, there's much scratching involved, Rogue doesn't know what the hell to do, and the kit bursts into hysteric tears.

It doesn't last long though. One small but awful sharp claw manages to drag it's way across Logan's eye, Wolverine lets out an angry roar that's loud enough to shake the old cabins very foundations, the half-pint attacker is finally given pause, and then all is over. Wolverine snatches the boy up by the back collar of his shirt and holds him so the tips of his feet just barely touch the ground. He's about the same height as the girl but less frail; he looks about eleven. Just old enough that his mutations kicked further into gear. The girls just a late bloomer, perhaps.

The pup whimpers as he stares up at the much larger feral whose eyes he'd just tried to claw out. Angry desperation quickly turns to terror as he fully realizes what he's up against. "Don't hurt us. Please, don't hurt us."

The kit still clinging to Rogue's legs grows even more hysteric. Rogue leans down and picks the girl up, cradling her close, a sort of rythmic purr starting up from somewhere in her chest. She doesn't notice. But the girl instantly calms. "That's it, sweetpea." The Southerner croons. "Hush up, now, it's alright, I promise."

It takes Logan a moment, but he manages to cage the rage, helped in part by the sight of Rogue acting so maternal. "Not tryin' to hurt yah, kid," he barks at length to the squirming pup he's still got ahold of, "but yah ain't makin' it easy, just cool it."

"I will, I'm sorry, I thought, I mean, are you really not here to - to...?"

"If I wanted to hurt yah, you'd be hurtin' already." He sets the pup down. "What the hell are you two doin' hold up in a place like this? Where's yahr pack?"

The boy sniffs the air. "You guys're feral."

Rogue blinks. Had the pup just said... She opens her mouth to correct him. No, Logan's feral, I'm just poison. But then she finally takes note of the sound emenating from her own chest and the way it's soothed the kit in her arms right to sleep, and she shuts her mouth.

Logan doesn't miss a single beat. "Yeah. We're here lookin' for somebody else. His names Victor, yah know 'im?"

The pup blinks up at Logan and cocks his head in just the right way. Hazel eyes glint gold in the little bit of sunshine that makes it past the clouds to shine through a nearby window, highlighting pupils slit like a wild cats. Oh. Ooooh. "That's our Alpha's name." He glances back at the girl who's likely his sister and scrapes a hand through his hair. "Look, mister, I'm sorry I came at yah like that. Thing is our Paw's been gone for days. Don't know when he's comin' back, he never says."

"Let me guess. He told yah to bite first and ask question later if anybody came up here while he's gone."

"Naw. Mean, he told me to take care of my sister, but he never said nothin' about anyone comin' up here, didn't seem to think anybody would. Y'all startled me, is all." He bows his head, submissive. "Sorry, mister."

"How longs yahr Alpha been gone?" Rogue asks, quiet so as not to wake the kit.

"Dunno. Days."

"You eaten since he left?"

The boys looks down, clearly ashamed. "Paw taught me to hunt but I ain't too much good at it yet, couldn't find us much up here and I got no way to get us into town."

Rogue meets Logan's eyes; a silent conversation ensues with perfect clarity. They're in total agreement.

Rogue lays the kit in her arms down on the ratty couch set before the fireplace. "Come on, then. Yahr sister's too warm, means she ain't well. There any firewood out back?"

"Yeah, Paw made sure we'd have plenty of that."

Logan lumbers out the back door. Rogue watches through the window as he deliberates, sniffs the air, and wanders off into the woods surrounding the house. Makes sense. They're pretty far up in the mountains; he'd have an easier time hunting dinner down himself than they would making the trek back down for food just now, especially since it's starting to snow. Besides, the young ones are looking awful thin. Some hearty, fresh meat will probably do them a world of good.

"Any idea where yahr Paw went?" She asks the pup as he leads her outside to an old shed.

"There were men after us. They...they took our Mom. I'd guess Paw's lookin' for her. He's had us movin' all the time since they first came 'cause we're just little, not like the others."

So they have other siblings, all of which are old enough to fend for themselves. Rogue files that away.

"Sounds exhaustin'."

The boy shrugs. "Paw says once he comes back this time he's gonna find someplace for us to lay low a while. Tori's been gettin' sick on 'n off, like we all did for a while, but we're twins yah see, so she shoulda got strong like I am by now, I think Paw worries about her."

Tori being his twin, presumably.

"How longs yahr Paw really been gone?"

The boy glances at her, biting at his lip. "Yahr not gonna take us away, are yah?"

"Ah wouldn't dream of keepin' yah from yahr alpha." Rogue promises.

"He's been gone over a week. He's never left us that long before, 'specially not since Tori started gettin' sick."

"We'll figure somethin' out once my friend gets back. For now we need to get a fire goin'."

"Yes, ma'am."

...

"So what's our next move?" Rogue asks quietly, after the children are fed and put down to sleep for the night.

"Wait for it to quit snowin'." Logan answers. "Beyond that, I'm kinda still thinkin'."

"We need to make sure the kids've got enough food 'fore we do anythin' else. Can't just leave 'em here like they was before. I'm suprised Victor left 'em that way. "

"Pups a tough enough little thing, they'll be fine a few days more."

"Logan." She scolds. "The kit's sick and it's freezin' up here, the poor pup's gonna have enough on his hands just tryin' to keep that fire goin' strong. He's too young to be out there tyrin' to hunt on his own and yah know it. If yah don't go out and get them some more meat tomorrow mornin' Ah'll drain yah while yah sleep and do it myself, don't think Ah won't."

Logan huffs a growl. "Alright, alright. Jesus. I'll sniff them out some more food first thing. We should eat again too, come to think of it, I got a feelin' this ain't gonna turn out pretty."

"You know where Victor is, then?"

"Got an idea. Folks in that town we went through 'fore headin' up this way, you hear what some of them were talkin' about?"

"Yeah. Military men. Guns and black cars. That could be anythin', though."

"Well I'm bettin' it's what Vic was after. Could be wrong, s'all I got though."

"Yah may not be. S'the only thing that would make a lick of sense. But don't yah think we oughta call for some backup then?"

"I tried that already." Logan takes out the small flip phone Ororo had bought and forced him to start carrying. "Damn things don't work out here. Pups aren't gonna wanna leave here without their alpha, so unless you wanna stay up here..."

"We're out of better options."

"Yep."

Rogue heaves a sigh and nods. "Well, fine then." She takes one of her gloves off and holds out her hand, decisive.

Logan raises a questioning eyebrow.

She huffs. "Ah got enough control these days, Ah'm just gonna borrow yah healin' n' stuff. Ain't like it's the first time Ah've done it."

"Whens the last time you got sick, kid?"

"What?"

"Cold or a cough or somethin', I mean. Any kinda sick."

"Ah.. Ah dunno. Why's it matter?"

"Because it happens. People who aren't like me or Vic or Jamie, they get sick sometimes, it just happens. But I can't remember the last time I saw you catch cold. Actually, I can't remember the last time I saw yah scrape a knee or somethin', either."

"Ah've just been lucky, Ah'd guess. Can Ah have yah hand or not?"

He studies her hard. "I'll bet yah can make do without it."

"Well sure, Ah can kick some butt on my own if Ah need ta, but it sure's hell would make things easier!"

He scowls down at her pale little hand, deliberating. "No." He answers, more definitive. "Not this time, darlin'. You don't need another dose of me. What yah do need, is to go see Hank when we get home."

"What? Why? Logan, what are yah talkin' about."

"Because yah just should, alright, s'not like it's gonna hurt yah. Now c'mon, lets get some sleep."

...

It stops snowing overnight. The roads still aren't great to travel on, but the sun is shining, and conditions improve as they get further up the mountains. The people in the town below had been an openly vocal bunch, spilling the latest gossip to Marie, and to eachother whilst well within hearing distance of feral ears. They all knew where the installation was.

The reason why is overwhelmingly apparent from an easy mile away even.

"Right." Rogue begins checking off the list as they keep cover behind the tree line. "Cement walls. Razor wire. Steel gate. Guard shacks at consistent intervals all around the perimter, at least two guards posted at each. Two guard towers. One of them has what looks like a goddamned missile launcher mounted casually at the window. The others are packing assault rifles. Also, there's two feet of snow on the ground, and Ah'm wearin' all black."

"Mm." Loga grunts. "Not to mention the turrets mounted on top of those booths, they ain't interested in lettin' anyone within ten damned feet of that entrance. Startin' to think you were right. We oughta grab the kids and haul ass back to the mansion. We need backup."

She glances at him, scowling now. "You've gone up against worse odds."

He cocks an eyebrow.

Her face is stone. "Your memories are too stubborn to fade."

He huffs a growl and shakes his head. "Yah're not wrong, we could do it just the two of us. If you had body armour and we both had guns and I wasn't gettin' to old for this shit." He pauses a fraction of a moment, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. "And if that guy didn't have a missile launcher. Trust me. Even if yah had my built-in armour plaitin'. Yah do not. Wanna play chicken with a missile launcher."

"No shit, Sherlock." Rogue rolls her eyes.

"An' watch yahr mouth, will yah? Nice girl like you shouldn't talk like that."

"Christ, Logan. Yahr not mah Daddy." He rolls his eyes, but doesn't dignify that with a response. She pauses a moment, thinking. "Yah know. Ah take that back, actually."

He stares at her, incredulous. "Yah do?" He asks flatly.

"Yep." She smirks. "Yah're right. Nice little southern girls don't talk like that. An' Ah am nothin' if not my Mama's perfect little belle. Ah know how we're gettin' in there. C'mon. We've got some plannin' to do. This'll take longer than we thought, but we're gonna get the job done. No help needed."

Logan's clearly skeptical, but he hands out a caveman grunt that passes for an assent and follows her back towards his truck.

...

"Ah, Darlin'. Yah know. I really didn't sign up for this."

"Ah know what Ah'm doin' Sugah."

"But I don't think I can..."

"Well, why not? Yah're gonna heal me all up in just a while, anyway!"

He scrubs a hand over the stubble coating his cheeks and chin. She likely heal right up either way, but that still doesn't make it... "It ain't like yah see in the movies, Darlin. S'really gonna hurt if yah want it to look that good."

"Yah think Ah've never taken a hit before? Jesus, Logan, Ah ain't made of glass, and Ah've seen yah and Jamie goin' at it in the Danger Room. She is a girl too, yah know." Her voice drips with sarcasm.

"Jamie comes back at me like a bat outta hell no matter how hard I accidentally hit the kid. Accidentally." It's only happened once. He's generally always in pretty good control of himself these days, his daughter's the one that gets a little too excited. "You... I just don't think I can do it, alright?" He barks.

"Fah Heaven's sake." And without any true warning, Rogue hauls back and sends a fist flying straight at his stomach.

"Shit!"

...

He knows she'll heal right up the minute he touches her skin-to-skin for more than half a second, just the same way he'd healed from the blow she'd delivered to his stomach.

(She knocked the wind clean out of him, he fell right on his ass. Was she always that strong? He really doesn't think so. She needs to have Hank check her out and thoroughly.)

It still doesn't make him feel any better about the nasty bruise around her eye. He'd knocked her out pretty clean for a minute there, he was close enough to the guard shacks to have several rifles and a missile launcher aimed at him before she came to and started babbling nonsense. He tried not to look down at her, but it was hard seeing as she was cradled in his arms and snuggling in close without a care in the world.

Anyway, he'd somehow managed to spin a relatively convincing story about their car breaking down, him hitting the road on foot to find help, and her being attacked by someone in the meantime. The guards had been skeptical but she'd done a good job of making herself look pretty ragged before having Logan add the final touch (to spite the fact his stomach had turned at the very thought, damn her.)

Anyway, after much debate, the guards had radioed their superiors, who were quick to answer based on the fact it was snowing outside again and there was a young, injured woman involved.

Rogue is resting comfortably in a hospital bed now, in an infirmary at the heart of the facility, bundled up warm and tight and sound asleep. The complex appears to be pretty massive and somehow self-sustaining, leading Logan to be just as curious as he is wary. What the hell is this place?

He glances down at her as she stirs a bit in her sleep. Does a double take. Rubs at his eyes, looks again. She'd had a bruise around her eye. Real nasty one, too. Right? Hadn't she? She should've, considering...

It's gone now. The skin around her eye is it's usual lovely shade of procelain, dotted here and there with freckles.

Is he going crazy? It's never out of the question.

It's getting later in the evening, and the number of busy-bee workers out in the hallway dwindles down to near none. A doctor slips quietly into the room, checks Rogue over some without waking her. "It's possible she may have a mild concussion, but she responded well enough to the doctor's earlier that we're not too worried, she knew the date and everything. The snow is supposed to stop sometime to night, we'll have a path cleared to take you down and into town come morning." She explains to Logan. "I'll have a cot brought in for you to sleep, you know, I can't imagine why they haven't brought one already." She shakes her head, sighs.

"Thanks, Doc." Logan answers, quiet.

He thinks about nabbing her for the next part of the plan but wants to wait until the place has gone more fully dark for the night, and besides. The woman smiles so sweetly at him. Once upon a time he may very well have had the stomach to reach for her if he needed to, but not anymore. Not now he's got a daughter of his own, especially.

Interesting, he thinks, in retrospect. It's not the first time by far that one of his affairs had produced a child but somehow, Jamie's the only girl to be brought into the mix so far on his end.

Rogue continues to sleep peacefully away. He settles in to wait it out a few more hours.

...

"Shit. Was that too much? Yah look like that was too much. Ah told yah to wake meh up first so's Ah wouldn't take too much!"

"Jesus, girl. Just give me a minute, I'm fine."

"What time's it?"

"Bout midnight." He gets up and lumbers across the room, a little wobbly, but that's normal after she touches him for any amount of time longer than five seconds. "An' we need ta hurry." He opens the door to the small closet across the room and pulls out the young nurse that had come in to check on Rogue; he's out cold but likely won't stay that way for very much longer.

"Perfect." Rogue replies upon seeing her victim. "Ah'll know just what to do."

.

-Elsewhere in the facility-

The screens are giving him a headache. There's just so damned many of them, and this facility has grown massive with all the levels below ground. He doesn't envy the poor bastards he pays to watch and patrol the halls for twelve hours at a time. No wonder there's been complaints of security growing lazy; it's enough he makes a mental note to check that his lower level guards are still being paid fair. He rubs his temples as he squints his eyes, forcing them to focus on the one with the two intruders.

"Uh. Commander Sanchez, sir." The newest recruit to his personal crew speaks up nervously. "Shouldn't we maybe be...?"

"We've got an eye on 'em, don't we?" Sanchez answers in his gravelly alto.

"Well, yes sir, but if they're after the prisoners you said their after...?"

"The memory wipe was finally completed on both of them this morning. The procedures success rate is ninety percent, I'm confident enough in those odds. No other reason we need to keep 'em, they were just protectin' their pack."

"But what if the intruders -"

"I have men at the ready for any given scenario." Sanchez cuts in firmly but patiently. "Not my first, second, or third rodeo, kid."

"Oh. Right. Of course not, sir. Sorry sir."

Sanchez waves the kid off as he continues to watch the two intruders make their way through a maze of hallways. "She seems to know where she's going. You still got those files on you, kid? Refresh my memory on these two."

The rookie clears his throat; shuffles some papers. "Right. Ok. She's called Rogue, sir."

"What kinda name is that?"

"Nom de guerr, sir. We don't know her real name. The exact mechanics of her mutation are unknown, just that she seems to somehow be able to steal knowledge from people, as well as mutations from other mutants. She's been labeled for some time as a possible addition to our ranks, I'd have to dig a little to find out why nothing's been done about that, our file on her is a mile thick. As for him..." More shuffling of papers. "We had more on him but the files apparently burned up in a fire just before they began transferring them to a computer. His names James Logan, alias Wolverine. Ah. Not sure about his mutation. There's just a note citing him as being extremely dangerous. There's standing orders not to engage him unless it somehow becomes absolutely necessary. Oh. One new bit of intel; the Fletcher girl is actually his daughter."

"He's a feral then." Sanchez answers, nodding. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Well, lets hope they'll get what they're lookin' for and leave quiet. I don't fancy the idea of makin' a mess of things while tryin' to put them down, too much damned paperwork. Oh. And get ahold of Ms. LaBelle for me. Tell her to go ahead and make contact with the Fletcher girl but choose her words. I don't wanna go upsettin' anymore feral mutants."

.

"This way."

"You sure about this, darlin'?"

"There's some kinda control room just up ahead."

They stop just as they come to the last turn they need to make, peering around the corner. There's three guards. Logan sighs. "Don't s'ppose you'd stay here while I take care of this."

"Awww, c'mon Logan, Ah ain't made of glass."

"They've got guns. All you got is a little too much of me stuffed into your pretty little head."

"And you're healin'."

"Bullets still hurt, you know."

She huffs. "What happens if they shoot yah and then manage to sound an alarm? Better we work together."

She's right, but he doesn't have to like it. He just scowls.

She huffs (it sounds suspiciously like a half-growl). "You wanna get Victor outta here, or not?"

He thinks on that a minute. Heaves a long-suffering sigh. "Don't got much choice, considering things. An' he is overdue for an ass-kickin', assumin' these guys ain't given him one already."

"Well then shuddap and let's just do this, bub." And without giving him time to argue further, she slips around the corner and begins creeping her way down the dimly lit hallway.

"Was that me 'r you talkin', kid?" He grumbles to himself. "Jesus, I'm gettin' too old for this shit." Logan scrubs a hand over the stubble coating his cheeks and chin, exasperated. But he's got no options now, so he follows her.

He knows there's cameras hidden along the hallways, and had been wondering how he and Rogue hadn't been noticed yet. He's beginning to understand now though. The guards in the control room are all just kids. The guns they're carrying are just tasers. Two are on their phones, one has headphones in, the third has his feet up on the control board before him and is sound asleep. None of them looks to care too much about the job they're meant to be doing.

Logan still gets the feeling he and Rogue are being watched, though, and it puts him on edge. Someones letting them through on purpose, and he'd like to know why.

(He also notes that he can hardly hear Rogue at all. She creeps down the hall making scarcely a sound and looking downright predatory. Had she taken that much from him earlier? He doesn't feel like she did. This seems like it's about 25% a fresh dose of him, and 75% Marie moving like, sounding like, overall kinda just acting like she's...

Like she's going to see Hank, whether she likes it or not.)

Rogue enters the room first and reaches for the guy on his phone closest to the door; her hand (gloved, of course) snakes up and cups itself firmly over his mouth and nose. He struggles, but she holds him with her borrowed feral strength. Snatches the taser out of his belt and stuns the girl with headphones in as she turns around. Hits her other captive over the head with the taser, hard; that's one down.

Logan sneaks up on the the third kid just as he startles awake; he's scrawny, easy to restrain and silence at once.

"Alright, just listen." Logan rumbles into the kids ear. "My friend here's clearly feelin' a little trigger happy. So I'd cooperate if I were you. We're lookin for a guy we're pretty sure you got locked up here somewhere. Big ol' bastard with sharp teeth, got a look in his eye like he wants to rip yer guts right out of yer belly and feed 'em to you. That's my brother, by the way, and he prob'bly does. I'm doubtin' you've missed him if he's here. Just tell us where he's at, and we'll only have to leave yah slightly injured."

As if on queue, the girl who'd been tased climbs to her feet with some difficulty and sends a shaky fist flying at Rogue, who counters the threat-but-not-really by lashing out with a fist aimed solidly at her opponents nose. The other woman, in turn, crumbles like a sack of potatoes.

That's two down.

Logan removes his hand from his captives mouth.

The kid gulps. "Who - who the hell are you people?"

"Yah're worst nightmare, peaches, but only if yah don't tell us where our friend is." Rogue answers, flippant, one hand planted on her hip now.

The kid eyes her, breaking out into a cold sweat. "Ok, ok..."

.

"Too easy, too easy, too easy." Logan grumbles continuously to himself as they enter the room. There's no other guards around but to be fair, the steel door Victor is supposed to be behind is bolted shut. It isn't likely that he'd manage to find a way out on his own.

Logan pops a claw and cuts the bolts like they're made of marshmellow, then pulls the door open to peer inside.

There's a long pause. Then... "Well. That's... unexpected." Victor's rumbling baritone floats out of the cell.

"You comin' or what, old man?" Logan replies.

Victor appears in the doorway, wary and tense but appearing no more scruffy than his usual. He eyes Logan up, and then Rogue, sniffing the air, almost as though he doesn't quite trust his own senses, but seems to come to a decision quick enough. "C'mon." He calls back into the cell. "We're gettin' out of here." Another moment passes and then a woman appears at his side, taking his hand. "My mate." Victor explains shortly. Seems fitting. The woman's an Amazon, dwarfing Rogue by a fair few inches.

"What the hell is goin' on here, Vic?" Logan asks, eyeing the woman up.

"I'd tell yah if I knew that myself, but I don't. We've got cubs nearby, do you know the way out of here, or not?"

"The cubs - you didn't happen to come across them by some chance, did you?" The Amazon adds in, clearly desperate with worry.

"We did." Rogue takes the time to answer, sympathetic. "They've been fed and are safe. There's a tunnel leadin' out of the facility and beneath the wall in case of emergencies, it ain't well guarded, we should be able to get out that way."

They make their way out with Rogue in the lead and Logan trailing behind a bit, glaring warily at the cameras on the ceiling above them. Too easy, too easy, too...

The tunnel is oddly long for all that the facility itself can only be so big. Walking it seems to take forever, especially since the space is a cramped one, but Rogue insists this is the way out. Sure enough, they do find the end, and though Logan has to put his claws to good use again, the motley little group does finally find themselves wandering out into the snowy forest just as dawn approaches.

For a moment they all just turn to stare at the massive, foreboding cement wall behind them, unable to believe they'd just made it out so damned easy.

"There're no guards at that post there." Victor's mate points out, hugging herself.

"They let us go." Logan mutters.

"Why the hell would they do that?" Victor asks, his tone suggesting he's not unbelieving, just heavily confused.

"Million dollar question, right there." Rogue says quietly.

Victor throws one large arm ove his mate's shoulders and begins leading her away resolutely. "C'mon. Cubs need they're Ma."

Logan follows them. Rogue's eyes catch on yet another camera, mounted on the guard post. She glares into it a moment, shivering for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold, and then stalks off after the others.

The feeling of being watched doesn't leave any of them for sometime afterward.

...

"Mama!" The kids race to the woman, nearly tackling her in their haste. Victor stays back and waits, patient; it isn't long before the kit pulls away from her mother and comes to hug him instead, burying her face firmly in his shirt. A daddy's girl. Huh. Who'd've thought?

Logan stuffs his hands in his pockets and wanders back out of the cabin. A little ways away, Rogue is leaned against his truck smoking a cigar. He has no idea where she'd gotten the thing. He'd smoked his last one over a day ago, having been so preoccupied he'd not thought to buy any more before trekking up the mountain. She holds hers out to him as he approaches, offering him a drag or two. He stairs at thing, studies her and how casually she handles it, and then thinks of Jamie and the trouble she'd found herself in days earlier.

His kit needs an Alpha. Which means Logan needs to start acting like an Alpha.

He waves off the offer. Rogue stares at him, though the only real sign of her suprise is a pair of raised eyebrows. She likely has things to say now, but after a moment she just shrugs and brings the thing back up to her own lips to smoke.

Victor slips out of the cabin and strolls through the snow. "Now, don't take this the wrong way, you saved our asses and I always give the devil his due. But how the hell did you know where to find us?"

"Tracked yahr path up here from a few towns over." Rogue replies when Logan doesn't. "Wasn't too hard, yah tend to leave an impression, and once we found the kids it was a piece o' cake. There weren't many other paths yah coulda taken up here. We jus' followed the one most well traveled. How'd y'all end up in that mess to begin with?"

Victor scowls.

"Yah don't know?"

"They fucked with our heads."

"D'you know that for sure?"

"Nothing else makes sense. Why were you lookin' for me, anyway?" Victor turns his attention to Logan. "Unless...the girl?"

Without an ounce of prior warning, Logan's fist connects with Victor's face. Hard. Enough so that the massive feral stumbles back and loses his footing, landing on his ass.

"Her names Carol James and you knew she was mine." Logan's voice is dangerously quiet.

Victor brings a hand up to ghost against his lips in clear suprise; it comes back dripping red. He spits blood into the snow beside him as the wounds begin healing over, and then starts laughing. "Damn. I missed you too, brother."

"You knew she was mine." Logan reiterates. "So what the hell were you thinking? You thought I'd just let it go?"

"What, the little dance we did? She's a fierce little thing, walked away just fine."

"She's walked away fine from worse since, I'm talkin' about you burnin' down her den, jackass!"

Victor climbs to his feet, the amusement behind his eyes fading to honest bewilderment. "What the hell are you talkin' about, Jimmy?"

Growing impatient, Logan reaches out and takes his brother by his shirt collar. "The cabin. It's burned to a husk, they're gonna have to tear the whole thing down and rebuild it, why the hell would yah do that to the kid?"

"I didn't." Victor answers simply.

There's a startled, confused pause.

"He don't smell like a liar." Rogue comments casually.

Logan blinks at his brother, and relaxes slowly. Victor pulls away.

Logan's arms drop down to his sides limply. "Oh."

Victor rolls his shoulders out, wiping the last traces of blood from his lip. "Any other bones you got to pick? I'll give yah another free hit since I owe yah one anyhow, but ah, that's all yah get."

Logan scowls, waving him off. "Go take care of your pack."

Victor almost looks disappointed, but walks back off and disappears inside the cabin.

Rogue puffs her cigar thoughtfully. "Well if he didn't burn the cabin down..who the hell did?"

"Add that to the list. Lets just get outta here already."


	11. Consequences 2

Tash wraps Jamie in a monster hug when they first lay eyes on each other again. "OhmyGod ohmyGod ohmyGod! I missed you, are you ok? You have to tell me what happened to us cause you know I barely remember it's all kinda a blur but -"

"Hey!" Jamie exclaims, cutting the other girl off firmly. "All you need to know is that it's me they wanted. Actually, if you had stayed put, you'd have never been taken in the first place!"

"Well...but you're my best friend." Tash's eyes are wide. She seems hurt. "I know I'm not any good in a fight but I had to try for you!"

Jamie's eyes fill with tears, but she manages to keep them from spilling. "Jesus, sister. I just wish I was worthy of that kinda loyalty."

"You don't get to decide who I think is worthy of my friendship." Tash answers firmly. "And screw you for thinking that in the first place. I have a brain and I know very well how to use it, therefore I'm perfectly capable of deciding who is worthy of my attention. Now come on. We're going to find Jake because he's been just as super worried about you as I have been." She snatches up Jamie's hand and stalks off.

Jamie's so taken by the other girls admonitions, she can't bring herself to protest.

...

"You know, sometimes I wish I was a telepath if only so I could figure out what exactly the hell that girl's thinkin'." Jamie comments to Jake as Tash strolls off to let them talk in relative privacy.

"You, me, and everyone else with enough energy to try and keep up as her friend." Jake sighs. "She's kinda her own special force of nature. Well, anyway. Real talk. How are you doing?"

Jamie blows out a breath. "I'm..alive. That's about all I can say at this point."

"Alive is good." Jake concedes. "If that's all you can be for now, that's cool. Everything ok? Back home, I mean?"

"Yeah. Well, not really, but it will be. They're gonna re-build my ma's diner."

"I'm sure she's happy, then!"

Jamie just shrugs.

A moment of awkward silence ensues.

"I missed you while you were gone." Jake says slowly.

Jamie musters a smile for him. "I missed you too."

"You know, I was thinking..." He stops, seeming to hesitate a moment.

Before he can go on, the sharp click-clack of a pair of stiletto heels makes itself known, followed promptly by the appearance of their tall, haughty owner. "Jake! I thought you said we were going out." Sarah Summers loops an arm around his, glancing sourly at Jamie.

Jake grimaces, bringing a hand up to run it through the thick blue fur at the back of his neck as if to remind himself of whether it's their or not. "Oh. Right. Sorry, babe. I'll get ready."

"Hurry?" She asks sweetly. "I'm getting awful hungry."

Jamie rolls her eyes.

"Yeah." He hesitates, blows out a breath. "I'll see you later, Jamie. We'll talk, I promise."

A moment of tense silence ensues as he walks off.

Sarah places her hands on her hips. "I swear you've been the only thing on his mind lately."

Jamie eyes the redhead up a moment, and then blows out a breath. "I ain't lookin' for trouble, Barbie doll."

"And yet somehow you're always at the center of it. Why is that?"

Wild Thing peeks her head out of her mental cage; a smirk plays at Jamie's lips. "Why is it that your boyfriend is more preoccupied with me than you? I kinda find that more of interest."

Another moment of silence. Sarah huffs. "Just keep your hands off him." It's not a suggestion. "Remember, he is still mine." She twirls on her heel and struts off, hips swaying.

Jamie rakes a hand through her hair, huffing a growl at herself. "Couldn't forget if I tried."

...

She tries to call her mother. Just once a day, always leaving a message, but never a long one; most times just an 'I love you'. The older woman never answers. Jamie keeps calling anyway.

The days drag by as snow blankets the grounds outside.

...

Snow. Fat flakes fall slow, lazy, unhindered by wind, covering the ground in a fresh, sparkling layer of stark white. This is the third time in a week that it's snowed, and the novelty has worn off already for most as there's so much of it on the ground. Jamie's tracks are the only ones trailing along the grounds of the school on this snowy afternoon; everyone else would rather be inside where it's warm and there's hot tea or chocolate to drink.

Or...

Snow has the unique ability to dampen sound to a far higher degree than most fully realize. Footsteps, if placed slow and careful, aren't as easily heard by feral ears, and she had been quite lost in thought. She stops in her tracks a moment, head cocking to the side as she suspends her breathing and listens close. The suddenness of her pause results in a delayed reaction; snow crunches just softly some feet behind her, and she can hear his sharp intake of breath. Several moments pass in sudden silence. The lightest of breezes stirs her hair; his scent carries.

Jamie smirks. Ok, then. Playtime it is.

Movements far more calculated this time, she starts herself moving again, towards the forest of mostly barren trees that surrounds the mansion. He keeps moving too, but she only hears the first few steps before he finds his rythm again. Upon reaching the tree line she spins around quick, but isn't surprised to find he's not there. In fact, his tracks broke off from the path she'd been taking several feet back. They disappear entirely upon reaching the tree line. Ah. That confirms her theory; he hasn't taken his 'medicine' today. That means Major Firebrand von Bitchface isn't around either. Wild Things races to the surface and Jamie lets her, growing excited. This will be fun.

The forest is home to a liberal number of Evergreen trees, a lovely way to ensure the grounds look alive in their own way all year round. The skin beneath all his fur is leathery thick, so the bristly pine needles won't be a bother to him; he's got a lot of nooks and crannies to hide in. She prowls along the tree line to where his tracks lead into the forest, and shuffles along, making scarce a sound herself. Even her breathing is slowed and silenced with a control Logan had been helping her to practice.

You know how to use your nose well as anyone I know, that I'll give yah, he'd explained, but mastery of yahr other senses is just as important. Learn to listen and really hear, learn to look and really see, learn to understand what yahr instincts are telling you, and most importantly learn to be aware of yourself, too. That's our real advantage, kid. Tools we need to disappear if we gotta are built right in.

She creeps through the snow, scanning the trees. She spots a tuft of blue fur on a few lowering hanging branches a ways further into the forest, and a few odd piles of snow on the ground beneath another. There's an Evergreen not far away...

Did she just hear a branch creak? She scrutinizes the tree. It's huge, quite tall. But He wouldn't have wanted to travel too far up...ah. There. An odd gap between the branches. Just as though the bottom set is a little more heavy laden than the rest.

He'll have eyes on her by now, close as she is. She turns and skulks off in a different direction, as though losing the trail, and decides to give him a dose of his own medicine. First, slip out of his probable line of sight. Spotting the perfect set of trees for her plan, she shuffles softly over and unleashes her claws. The bone is hard enough; if she places it just right, she should be able dig in and climb the tree using them. It's slow going, but she makes it up decently far, making herself comfortable for a moment on a fat branch, being sure to shake off a little snow for show. The next part is harder; she has to walk it like a circus performer, as there's no other branches strong enough to help her. She nearly loses her balance more than once, and fully slips right towards the end, but manages to swing over and land on a branch just below her but attached to another tree. From there it's much easier; she just has to climb down to the lowest hanging branch and jump to the ground so she can hid behind the old oak trees thick trunk.

Now the name of the game is 'wait'.

He's impatient by now; it isn't long before she hears the unavoidable 'thump' as his bulk lands on the ground. Reaching down slow, she scoops up a large handful of snow and shapes it into a ball. He's getting closer, not trying as hard to be quiet in his confusion. Probably looking up, as there are no tracks to lead him to her hiding spot.

Closer...closer...close...

She darts out quick and throws the snow ball. It hits him squarely in the chest, and he's so surprised he actually stumbles back a few paces.

She claps and bursts into laughter. "Ha. That'll teach you to try and out sneak me, Jake McCoy!"

He shakes his head. "Alright. You asked for it." He reaches down, slow and deliberate, scooping up a large handful of snow to form into a ball.

Jamie backs away slow, hands help up in playful surrender. "Ok. Take it easy, there. Nobody wins if you start a war."

"Oh no, this ones all on you!" He stomps forward a few steps, hauls back, and throws the snow ball.

Giggling and shenanigans ensue. They tear through the trees, chasing after each other, insults flying alongside snow balls. They go on this way for some time, until a school bell rings distantly. Ms. Munroe, signaling that it's time for dinner.

Jamie shakes snow out of her hair and sticks her tongue out at Jake, who had technically just won there little fight. "Guess I'll have to get you next time."

"Oh please, you're no where near my level and you know it!" He fires back, but the amusement is fading from his eyes. He looks...sad.

"Hey." Jamie raises an eyebrow. "Why the long face, furball?"

"Oh, ah, I'm just...thinking."

"About...?"

He brings a hand up to worry at the fur on the back of his neck. "Couple of things. Mostly..mostly about Sarah."

"Oh. Trouble in paradise then?" Jamie doesn't think. "Where is the Barbie Doll anyway?"

"She stayed in the city for this weekend. We, uhm. We kinda had a fight."

"Oh. You wanna talk about it...?"

"I proposed."

Jamie freezes. In fact, time itself seems to come screeching to a halt. _Her heart skips a beat, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Wild Thing howls in preemptive agony,_ and Jamie blows out a breath, clears her throat _._ "Well, we all saw that comin', good for you furball." She grumbles, gruff now. "So what's the problem?"

"She said yes. Well, I mean, she sort of said no, sort of said yes, it was a long conversation and my heads still kind of spinning -"

"Jesus, McCoy." Jamie growls, suddenly brimming with an intense and angry annoyance, "Spit it the hell out, will yah?"

He freezes like a deer in the headlights for a minute, the tone of her voice apparently startling. He shakes his head slow. "She won't marry me unless I agree to not be your friend anymore."

Wild Thing snarls as heart break turns to anger, damnit she'd just love to get her hands on that readheaded piece of - Jamie shoves her hands in her pockets and scowls. "Well that seems a little childish, don't it?"

"Not really. I mean, it would be in any other case. But not ours." He says, his voice going quieter. "She just..isn't stupid. Jamie, there's something I need to tell-"

Jamie holds a hand up. "No."

Hurt registers behind his big golden eyes. "But things are complicated and I need you to..."

Jamie cuts him off again, purposefully vicious. "What you need is to get your big blue head out of the clouds. You don't know me like you know her."

"It's my decision." He snarls back, with a force clearly born of a long pent-up frustration.

"Well - then make it! Just think first! Because chances are you'd learn to hate me like everyone else I know seems to be starting to, and Wild Thing wouldn't wanna let you go too easy."

"What do - what do you mean?" He knows. He understands exactly what she means, the look in his eyes makes that clear. "Say it, Jamie."

She just shakes her head. "Go find someone else to help you figure your shit out, McCoy. I might be many things already, but I'll be damned if anyone's gonna add homewrecker to the list." She slips past him to head inside.

He doesn't follow.

...

 _The pistol aims itself, held firm in the old crones steady hand, but her grandmothers face warps, grows distorted. Green eyes turn black and yellow as thin lips turn up in an evil grin._

 _"I'll get you next time, Carol James, just you wait and see!" And she breaks off in a manic cackle as a bullet tears through Jamie's flesh -_

Jamie starts awake in her bed in the girls dorm, gasping for breath, her night clothes soaked through with sweat. For a minute she just sits there, paralyzed with fear, heart pounding, stomach churning, muscles tensed and ready for a fight. But there's no real threat. Her only enemy here is her own mind . It takes several minutes, but she manages to compose herself. Somehow, she hadn't woken anyone, though she's certain she had cried out in her sleep.

Her claws slide back into hiding, and she scowls down at the tattered remnants of her bed sheets. _Not again._

...

Classes are let out for a few weeks; some students go home to their parents for the holidays. Tash is on this list. She promises to call, but has only done so once so far, explaining that her family had what appeared to be a pretty full vacation planned for her. Dr. McCoy and Ms. Munroe (are the pair married? Why isn't she Mrs. McCoy if they are? Jamie realizes she doesn't know,) have whisked Jake away for some more quiet family time somewhere. He does call, though, at least once a day so far. The thought that he clearly thinks of her, and so often to boot, leaves Jamie with some pretty mixed feelings. She both adores him for his sweetness and hates him for the forbidden feelings he's inspiring in her. She doesn't answer when he calls.

She doesn't bother calling her mother when Christmas Eve arrives. She sort of wishes the old woman will be the one to pick up the phone instead, but isn't holding out much hope anymore by the time morning turns to afternoon. She ends up sat on her bed in the girls dorm after a while, arms crossed as she just stares at her cellphone and contemplates trying to sneak out of the mansion. She'd promised herself she wouldn't go off looking for anymore trouble, but being stuck here mostly alone with her own thoughts is starting to make her sick.

"Mmmm. Don't think Ah like that look on yah face, now. Looks like trouble to meh."

Jamie can't help cracking a small smile as Anna's voice reaches her ears. "You're back! It's about time."

"Whew, now don't Ah know it, sweetpea, yah just have no idea," the older girl comes to sit herself cross-legged on Jamie's bed, "there was a snowstorm up there and Logan ain't actin' a bit himself these days and then there was this creepy ol' Nazi-lookin' fortress way up in the mountains we had to sneak into. It's a long story but Ah am just pleased as pie to be home, let me tell yah, Sug."

Jamie giggles a bit. Something about Anna's mannerisms and accent just always manages to be oddly soothing. "OhmyGod, I missed you."

"Missed yah too!" Anna smiles warmly, leaning in to wrap Jamie in a hug. "Ah'm just sorry it took meh so long to get back down here. Ah know yah been lonely."

Jamie sniffs at the air as Anna comes so close, abruptly distracted. The Southerner smells...kinda funny. Underneath her perfume, her scent has shifted to be almost..almost...like she'd been cuddling with a dog, actually, only it doesn't smell like any kind of dog Jamie's come across before.

"Jamie-girl? Somethin' wrong?"

Anna and Logan had spent quite a bit of time in close quarters together over the course of the past few weeks. It's probably traces of him Jamie's picking up. With no other explaination forthcoming, Jamie shrugs. "Nah, sorry. I'm good. Hey, are you gonna be in charge while Ms. Munroe is gone? Cause Mr. Drake seems kinda weirded out being the boss."

Anna scowls. "Ugh. Not on his life. Ah wanna actually have a holiday. Bobby will get over it. Anyway, Ah ain't worried about him; how are you doin', sweetpea?"

Jamie brings a hand up to rake it through her short brunette waves. "Mostly just bored as hell, honestly. Tash and Jake are both gone, and I think I've been thinking too much."

"Ah. You shouldn't do that. S'bad for yah health, yah know." Anna says with playful seriousness.

"Yeah, I'm startin' to realize that." Jamie conjures up a smile again, though it fades too quickly. "Hey, where's Logan? I'd've thought he'd been headed straight for me soon as you two got back. Figure he's probably got some things to say."

Anna hesitates. "He did." She says haltingly. "But, well. Things're changin' 'round here again, sweetpea. Or, well, maybe they just never quite finished changin' after you got here, s'hard to say..." The other girl clears her throat, almost gruff, clearly uncomfortable. "Look, ah, maybe yah oughta call yahr mama. It's Christmas eve, after all."

"I've been tryin' to call her. She never answers." Jamie sniffs the air. Anna's scent; it's all wrong. She's too tense. "You didn't answer my question, though. Where's Logan?"

"If Ah tell yah it'll be me stickin' my nose where it don't belong, Sug. Let it go."

Jamie studies her a moment, and then nods slowly. "Mom asked him to join her, then." She says quietly. Tears well up. She manages to keep them at bay, but only just. It's like her mother wanted her to be all alone here.

"Awww." Anna leans in and presses a sisterly kiss to Jamie's forehead. "C'mon now, don't cry! And don't think to hard on it, neither. If it makes yah feel any better, they only decided on the idea 'cause they didn't figure you'd be too keen to see him and they knew Ah'd look after yah some."

Jamie swipes a hand over her eyes and takes a breath. "Fair 'nough. So, ah... so what happened. With Victor, I mean. Did you guys get him?"

"Oh, we got him alright." Anna allows the subject change. "Him 'n his mate was captured and bein' held in some kinda facility and yah know, it was the strangest thing, and Ah only thought of it after the fact, but the guards there were wearin' uniforms that..." She trails off abruptly, oddly, catches herself, and continues with a wave of her hand. "Well, anyhow, we got him out, but yah know, he had little ones nearby, a pup and a kit, and she was real sickly. Logan asked him about yahr den but Vic said he didn't do it and we didn't smell a lie on him and considerin' everthing Logan couldn't bring himself to start a fight anyway so that was the end of that."

"He didn't start the fire."

"Nope."

"Oh." Jamie files all that away. She has a feeling...but there'll be time to process the information later. "Ok."

A moment of dead silence ensues. Anna heaves a sigh and reaches out to scoop Jamie's hand up. "C'mon, sweetpea, let's go to my room. Ah bought junk food and we can watch Christmas movies!"

Jamie musters up another small smile; the idea doesn't sound terrible. "Sure. Sounds good!"

...

She goes over it again and again and again in her head. So many times she makes herself dizzy. Though there are a few other people Jamie had managed to piss off at one point or another, most of them were ruffians she'd encountered at the warehouse, and none had ever even known where she lived. In fact, the only friend she'd had up there that had known that was Tierney Doran. And T wouldn't have had any reason to want to torch the place.

So. If Victor didn't do it, and no one else Jamie had ever messed with up there could have done it, and since buildings don't usually just set themselves ablaze, there's only one other possible explanation.

And Jamie's not in the mood to be merciful.

She takes out the pictures she had already blackmailed her grandmother with, and mails them - not to the Fletcher mansion. No, ensuring the photos reach her grandfather requires that they pass through another's capable hands first.

"Hey beautiful." His smooth baritone comes over the phone, tinged with pleasant surprise.

"Hey Kelly. You out of the hospital yet? Cause I need a tiny favor..."

...

The rest of the holiday disappears slow, probably due to the fact that it's painfully dull and void of any notable events, save for the gifts that magically appear on Jamie's bed on Christmas day. (Four of them. One from Tash, a simple though thoughtful trinket. The second is a new pair of boots from Anna, also thoughtful; her old pair had been growing ragged. The third is from Jake. She doesn't open it.)

The teachers and other students all gather down in the rec room on New Years Eve, partaking happily in pizza and cake and soda as they wait for the count down. Jamie joins them but doesn't feel much like celebrating, and it shows. Anna doesn't appear until close to ten, and even then just pulls Jamie back to her room again.

"Bobby 'n the others got their hands full, they ain't gonna notice if we're not down there. You didn't look like yah wanted to be down there anymore than me, anyway." She comments as she locks her door and heads over to her closet.

"Yeah. I haven't done too well, makin' other friends here. Mean, I keep tryin', s'just...hell. I don't know." Jamie rakes a hand through her hair, and raises an eyebrow at Anna, who is now holding an unlabeled jar housing a clear liquid. "Ahkay. Two questions. One, is that what I think it is? And two, what put yah in that kinda mood?"

"Nothin' yah need to be worryin' yah pretty head about, Sug." Anna answers, a little too cheery. "And this, is most definitely what yah thinkin' it is, assumin' yah thinkin' it's somethin' to make yah feel good. Yah want some, or not? S'not all Ah got in here, neither."

Jamie knows she shouldn't, but Jesus, the older girl is offering it so readily... "Oh, hell yes."

...

Jake calls again, around midnight. Not totally unexpected, but Jamie is tipsy, and takes the phone out with every intention of answering this time.

Rogue snatches it up without warning and tosses it in a drawer of her dresser. "Yah'll thank me later, Sug."

She's probably right.

...

Her mother calls the next day at some ungodly hour of the morning, two times. Jamie's a little hungover and too lazy to even reach for the phone. She doesn't even realize it's her mother that called until much later that morning, after she and Anna have both woken up and wandered off to find food. She doesn't really even want to talk to her mother just now, contemplates ignoring the old woman altogether even, but Anna scolds her for the thought.

She tries to call back and it rings forever. She almost just hangs up, but then...

 _"Jamie!"_ Her mother's voice carries over the phone, filled with pleasant surprise. _"I had worried you wouldn't..."_

"I mean, I thought about it." Jamie answers, gruff.

 _"Oh, it's so good to hear your voice!"_ Her mother blurts, as though Jamie hadn't spoken. There's something about the other woman's tone of voice...she sounds oddly over-excited. _"Are you alright? I know you should be safe enough down there at the school but Logan's been such a cryptic son of a bitch these past weeks, I haven't quite been able to work out whether I ought to be worried or -"_

"Ma." Jamie barks, cutting the older woman off. "What the hell are you goin' on about?"

 _"You mean...you don't know? Logan heard something odd over the phone the last time he called me, it set him all on edge."_ There's worry and anger and confusion mixed into her voice. _"He destroyed my phone the moment he got up here to me and refused to buy me a new one. And then he disappeared on me for a few days and came back looking all roughed up and thinks a new phone is an adequate apology! And then the last time I asked him what's going on, he just told me to ask you! Said something about some friends of yours sending their regards, I've no idea what that could possibly mean."_

As if on queue, Jamie's phone pings with a text message. "Hold on a minute for me, Ma." Brows furrowed, she pulls the phone away to read it.

 _Meet me here at noon and do not be late. We have much to discuss._

 _T. Labelle_

The snake lady.

The date given is two weeks away, a Saturday, and the address typed out leads to an abandoned warehouse in some vaguely sketchy part of town about an hour away. Typical. Jamie sighs as she brings the phone back to her ear. "Your phone was bugged. Logan was right to get rid of it."

 _"Bugged? But I don't understand, whatever for?"_

Jamie rakes a hand through her hair. "Because they've got eyes on me every which way, I'd figure. It's alright, I think this is actually their version of playin' nice an' besides, I don't blame 'em for keepin' tabs on me."

 _"Who are you talking about? Carol James..."_

"Look, it doesn't even matter. You guys can't do anythin' about it. Try to relax, Ma. I'm not in any danger right now."

 _"But I don't... I mean, why would people be watching you? Oh, look here, I'm telling Logan that we're leaving tonight, I've left you on your own down there too long already, haven't I?"_

Jamie blows out a breath. "They're watching me because they know what I can do and they don't want me disappearin' on 'em." She answers, patient. "Don't you dare leave. Stay at the cabin with Logan, I know he'll protect you, if it's even necessary. I'm safe enough here at the mansion and I'm not alone at all."

 _"Don't you dare go anywhere, either, then!"_

"I won't." Jamie doesn't actually promise. Somehow, that doesn't leave her feeling any less dirty about the lie.

...

She's so busy worrying about having to meet up with the Snake Lady, she almost forgets about her Birthday.

Tash and Anna don't, though.

The two of them, Jake, a few other girls, and both of Jake's parents all come together to fix her up a party. Ms. Munroe bakes cupcakes that they all help decorate while Tash and Anna organize some games to play, and it's enough that Jamie near forgets to be uptight for a little while.

She even gets a present. Just the one - she'd refused to give anyone gift ideas, as there's nothing she really needs or wants anyway, so they all had given up on it eventually - but it seems her mother and Logan had been thinking about her. They'd bought her a jacket. Brown leather with bronze zippers and buckles and removeable wool liner and it fits like an absolute glove. She loves the hell out of it.

At the bottom of the box it had been tucked into there's a letter and a set of keys. She recognizes these keys; they go to Logan's 'bike. The letter is in his handwriting.

 _I remembered just the other day - my baby's sitting down there just collecting dust, and I can't have that. Be careful, remember your not licensed yet, but take care of her for me will you?_

 _And hey, I met some friends of yours a few days ago. They were spying on your Ma, God knows why. You could've just said so if you're in trouble, kid. I got some favors I can call in if you need help, just so you know._

 _P.S. Your Ma picked out the jacket. She knows you better than you seem to think._

 _-Logan_

...

"I could come with yah." Anna offers. "Just in case."

Jamie thinks on that for half a minute as she pulls the tarp off Logan's bike and sets it aside. "Nah." She decides. "I mean. You know exactly where I'm goin', right? Give it a couple o' hours. If I don't call yah, tell Ms. Munroe what's up. Logan too."

"And what if yah're dead by then?"

"Erm. I mean. Why would they be askin' me to meet them then? It'd take a pretty precise shot to kill me, right? My Grandma proved that. Be hard as hell for them to manage that if I'm puttin' up a fight because I know it's comin'. Sure they could do it anyway, but it'd be stupidly inconvenient when they could've just as easily done me in the night they kidnapped me 'n Tash, right?"

Anna's staring at her openly now. Worried. "Are you still havin' nightmares?"

Jamie avoids eye contact. "Not as often."

"You're lyin'." The Southerner's response comes so snappy, sounds so decisive. She's not accusing. She knows.

Brows furrowed, Jamie turns to lean against the 'bike, hands tucked into her pockets. "No shit, I'm lyin'." She admits, flippant. "Mind tellin' me how the hell you could tell?"

Anna's face is screwed up in confusion. She shakes her head. "You, ah, just..weren't tryin' too hard. S'obvious."

"I can smell it when you lie, you know. What's up with you?" Jamie raises an eyebrow.

Anna huffs (or is -is that almost a growl?). "Not the issue right now. Yah've thought all this through well 'nough, Ah'll give yah that Peaches, but yah yah're a little too calm for my likin' this mornin', that's all. What's goin' on in that head o' yours."

"Eh. Nothin' out of the ordinary, really." Except she can't stop thinking about how she does keep having the nightmare and it's always the same one, God she hates that nasty old gorgon she's forced to call 'Grandmother'... "I just wanna get this the hell over with, is all." She mounts the 'bike.

"You got three hours, tops." Anna says, huffy now. "Call me by then or Ah'm comin' after yah."

"I will, I will." Jamie starts the 'bike and leaves.

...

It's cold, but the suns shining, and there's no other structures crowding the abandoned lot; it's just the old warehouse. There's just one black SUV parked in front of it. As Jamie approaches, four people climb out of the car; three burly boys in body armour, and Trixie Labelle.

Jamie parks the bike a ways away and strolls over with hands tucked deep in her pockets. "This it?" She asks.

Trixie gestures to the car. "You're welcome to check for yourself. For that matter, check the warehouse as well. The doors are all locked tight from the outside. It's just me and my three friends here; this is no ambush."

Jamie doesn't want to get close enough to the woman to smell out a lie if ones being told; it seems unnecessary anyway. There's little to no wind and they're out in the middle of nowhere. If something else was up, she'd likely hear it. She shrugs. "Just get to talkin', lady."

"Very well." Trixie crosses her arms. "I'll be brief, as I hardly wish to remain out here in the cold for long. Did you find the suprise we left for you in the folder with your grandmothers files?"

"Yeah, I found it."

"Good. Listen closely, as I only intend to say this once. My superiors are quite largely repsonsible for the fact that your bouts of delinquent misconduct have flown under everyones radar, as it were. And don't get me started on the fiasco with your mother's husband. I do so abhor corporate lawyers, trust when I say you did the world a service darling, but the aftermath is always so messy."

Jamie scowls. "You got a point here, or...?"

"Patience, my dear." Trixie scolds. "The point is that we could see to it the evidence of it all is destroyed. Your slate would be clean as any normal girls ought to be when just coming of age, and you would never hear from us again."

"Sounds fantastic." Jamie snaps back. "What do you want from me in return?"

"Your services, of course."

"For what?"

"I have your attention then?"

"I'm still here, ain't I?"

"We need someone for an undercover operation we're attempting. The target is quite powerful and...unique in his tastes, and known to be a touch - volatile. Your particular talents and physiology would render you perfect for the job. With a spot of training on the matter, of course."

Jamie blinks at the woman, and tries desperately to choke back a sudden fit of laughter. "You - you want me to seduce some rich guy for you? Hell, sounds like just killin' him outright would be easier if I'm your best bet!"

"Our business is information, Ms. Fletcher." Trixie responds, sounding as though she's losing patience.

"I ain't yahr girl for this, doesn't matter what you want out of it."

Trixie studies Jamie, heaving a sigh. "If you say so. My job is to lay the facts out for you. And they are that without our help, Carol James Fletcher, you would have been sent to jail for some reason if not another by now, I'm quite certain of it. Help us, and it all goes away."

Jamie rakes a hand through her hair. "I'm still in school. I can't just leave."

"Accounted for. We won't be interfering with your last few months of education, though there is some training my superiors would wish to begin scheduling your for, this is a very long con you would have to be prepared for after all."

Stomach twisting with a sudden bout of anxiety as she starts thinking it through, Jamie reaches for the cigarettes in her pocket. "I need to think."

"Of course. I'll send you more information. Contact me with your answer when you have it yourself." Trixie climbs into the SUV hastily, clearly unable to stand the freezing temperatures for much longer.

The SUV drives off in moments. Just like that, Jamie's alone. Un-bothered by the cold, she lights up a cigarette, takes a drag, and reaches for her phone.

 _"OHMYGOD Jamie! Are you ok? What's going on?"_ Anna screeches.

"I'm fine. But ah, you are not gonna believe this..."


	12. Consequences 3

"Well... Shit." Anna says pointedly.

Jamie blows out a breath. "...yeah."

"Ah wish Ah knew what to tell yah, Sweetpea. But.. Ah got nothin'."

"I did dig my own hole, I guess." Jamie concedes.

"Yah did. That don't mean it's fair of the world to suddenly start punishin' yah now when yah've been tryin' to be good, but..."

"Life ain't fair. Lessoned already learned on that one."

Anna's quiet for a moment, clearly thinking as she leans on the rail of the patio, staring out at the snowy grounds of the school. Jamie just stares at the cigarette that's slowly burning itself out between her fingers.

"Yah do got options. Logan could prob'ly help yah, he's got friends in pretty low places. Some in surprisingly high ones, too, come to think of it."

Jamie shakes her head. "I dug the hole myself." She reiterates. "I don't wanna risk dragging anyone else into it with me."

"It's not just anyone else. It's Logan, and it wouldn't be outta line to say he owes yah. He's gotten himself into worse scrapes, and believe me, standing on moral high ground, he is not."

Jamie just shrugs.

"Or yah could just do what they want yah to, see where it goes." Anna goes on. "Sounds like pretty shady stuff but that's the real decision here anyway. Yah're not so much just a kid anymore, Sweetpea. I hate to say it but it sounds like playtimes over. You gotta start really decidin' how ok with toein' the line yah are, cause the questions gonna come up more 'n more if yah keep trainin' with the team here, anyway."

Jamie takes in one last drag of her cigarette before crushing it out, and breathes the smoke out in a slow sigh. "I could..I could be just fine if I tell them no."

"You could. Sounds like that's one big damn risk, though."

It is. And Jamie's not sure she's selfless enough to take it.

...

Jake corners her in the Danger Room one night. It's midnight and she's alone, as she's still allowed to sneak down and run solo sessions when the fancy strikes her. He blocks the doorway with his furry blue bulk just as she goes to leave.

At first she's angered by his sudden intrusion, but then his scent hits her like a tidal wave. He's got a look in his eyes, too... Wild Thing grows excited, moreso than usual. It takes a minute, but she puts the pieces together - she'd just started her montly visit from 'Aunt Dot' that morning. Usually he avoids her altogether during this time - rightly so, as he'd be able to smell it on her and feral instincts tend to make it extra awkward - but apparently somethings changed. He's eyeing her, quite unabashedly, like a lion sizing up a potential mate.

Jamie has to backup several paces and take a few deep breathes before she can actually speak. "Ahem. Can I help you, bud?"

"I..smelled..." He starts to answer, stops himself, shakes his head as though to clear it. "It's just, you..seem to have been avoiding me, so I thought I'd..just come find you."

Jamie avoids looking at him. "Thought the Barbie doll didn't want you seein' me anymore?"

"I'm not sure I care what she wants anymore. I miss you."

She rolls her eyes, huffs. "Jake, I think I literally have like ninety nine problems but this - what ever the hell this is - this is not on that list of problems, ok? You need to drop it." She gives him a bit of a shove, forcing her way past him.

"I'm thinking about dropping her, Jamie. I don't know what this is either but it's got me feeling kinda -" He breaks off abruptly, almost as though he isn't sure how to go on, but something about his voice...he growls at her, low and primal.

Wild Thing spins on her heel and answers in kind. "You sure you could handle that, big guy?"

"Think I'd maybe like to find out."

Shit. No. Jamie fights to keep control. "No. No, last I saw there was a ring on Barbie's finger. You wanna actually get rid of that problem, then maybe we can talk, but you clearly ain't thinkin' right just now, McCoy. Go to bed."

Silence. He doesn't budge.

She looks up. He's struggling hard as she is. Her heart pounds, his hands shake some, and for a long minute they just stand there staring at eachother. If she doesn't move right now, they're both going to be in very big trouble.

Trouble. She's got enough of that to deal with already.

It takes effort, but she forces her legs to move. Wild Thing howls in indignation - he's right there, stupid stupid stupid, go and get him go and get him go and - but she's in the elevator already. He chases after her, but the doors are closing. She just lets them.

...

She technically has to see him, during classes and Danger Room sessions, but whatever strange spell had gotten ahold of him that night seems to have dissapated by the next morning. He barely acknowledges her existence, which is just fine by her. In fact, everything on that front is just peachy as long as...

"Summers!" Wild Thing snarls, just managing to drag herself to her feet. Her clothes are singed and her arm is just healing from a nasty burn.

"Oops." The girl in question retorts, hand on her hip. She's not actually smirking, and it's hard to tell what she's thinking with her eyes are hidden behind her visor, as she'd been practicing with her primary power. And boy, does it pack a punch.

Jamie huffs a low growl. The other Junior X-men back away smartly.

Sarah shrugs, flippant. "Oh, relax. You're already healed, and it was just an accident."

"Yeah, so how come your accidents only seem to involve me, huh?" Wild Thing stalks forward a few paces, unable to quell the rage settled like a bomb in her belly. "That's the fourth time in the last two weeks!"

"Uh. Ladies. Is this really necess-" Jake stutters.

"If you're so ready to think it's something personal, I'd have to wonder if it's for a good reason, I know he wasn't in his room last night." Sarah spits, ignoring her fiancé completely, tone openly hostile now.

"Now you're spyin' on him! Boy you're a peice of work, aren't yah?" Jamie fires back. "You got that much time on your hands, why is it he's askin' me to take care of him at night?"

"Jamie!" Jake hisses incredulously, stepping between the two girls. "Stop. Now!"

"Oh no. I'm sorry..." The redhead stalks forward and shoves him aside without ceremony, voice dangerous quiet now as she's within spitting distance of Jamie. "Do you want to run that by me again?"

Wild Thing smirks, and repeats it back nice and slow. "I said, if you've got so much time on your hands, why am I the one he came lookin' for last night."

Several things happen at once. Sarah brings a hand up to her visor and aims the blast right at Jamie, who expects this and dodges with ease only to shoot forward and send a fist flying into the taller girls stomach. The rest of the Junior X-men (except for Jake) beat a hasty retreat. Jake reaches out to restrain the nearest angry female, which just happens to be Jamie, shouting as he does so. "That's enough!"

Sarah calls out. "Computer, simulation Sarah03!"

A simulation forms itself around them, some sort of battlefeild. Sarah lifts a piece of debris with her telekenesis, fueled by her anger, and sends it flying across to slam into Jamie, sending both her and Jake tumbling. He knocks his head on the ground and is too disoriented to keep a grip on the tiny feral, who shoots to her feet and storms towards the redhead. The rest is a blur for the most part. Jamie somehow manages to land a nasty blow to Sarah's eye. Sarah sends the feral slamming back against a wall and holds her there, Jake just watches because he's not sure he could stop the pair if he tried, and just when things are about to get really bad...

A wall of ice forms itself up between the two women. Sarah's feet are covered in a block of it; the surprise registers clear on her face even with the visor on. She releases Jamie, who hits the floor hard.

"Ladies - and I use the term loosely." Mr. Drake barks, sizing up the two girls. "Cool it. That's not a suggestion." His eyes land on the blue ball of fur still sitting dumbfounded against the wall not far from the doors. "What the hell is going on here?"

Jake shakes his head, getting to his feet, ignoring the question as he addresses his girlfriend. "You know, I can respect Jamie. At least she's not playing at being anything other than what she is. You try to act so innocent. I'm not sure I know you as well as I thought." He shakes his head and stalks towards the entrance where Iceman is standing with arms crossed and a hard look on his face. "Let 'em have at it for all I care, it's not my problem anymore. I quit."

Mr. Drake watches him go, shaking his head, muttering. "It's Cyclops and Wolverine all over again. Lord help us all." He heaves a sigh, and calls out louder. "I hope you ladies are proud of yourselves. Storm's office, both of you. Now."

.

They sit for some time, waiting for Ms. Munroe to arrive. Nearly half an hour. Neither girl says a word. Jamie's got nothing to say, and Sarah looks increasingly meloncholy as she fiddles with the diamond still resting on her finger.

Both girls tense when the door finally opens and Ms. Munroe enters. Surely they're about to get one hell of an earful, right?

Except Ms. Munroe is calm as could be. She comes to stand before the girls, arms crossed, and seems to contemplate them for a moment before heaving a long-suffering sigh. "Jamie."

"Yes, ma'am."

"My son tells me you were more or less just defending yourself. Is that true?"

Jamie glances at Sarah. She could, quite easily, just throw the other girl right under the bus there. But that would be just plain petty, which isn't really her MO. "I could've just walked away, ma'am, it was -"

"My fault." Sarah interjects quietly. "The whole thing. I've been... it was my fault."

Ms. Munroe shakes her head. "It's not like you to pick fights, Sarah. Is there something else you girls want to tell me about what's going on?"

"We've both been doing the picking." Jamie replies, plain honest.

"But it won't happen again." Sarah says, firmer.

"Can you promise me that? Because I'm beginning to think I need to start reevaluating things where the team is concerned." Ms. Munroe pauses, as though choosing her words. "And I don't want to do that. You're gonna be a force to be reckonned with, girls, we can all see it. But first I need you to decide to be better than this. Sarah, I know you're better than this."

Jamie snorts. And everyone knows I'm actually not, right?

Sarah says nothing.

Ms. Munroe continues. "You're dismissed. I know you've got a bit of a drive back to the city."

Sarah nods, sends a last glance at Jamie, and beats a hasty retreat.

Ororo relaxes a fraction, leaning back against her desk. "Has anyone ever -"

Jamie scowls. "What? Told me how much like my father I am?"

Ms. Munroe seems unbothered by the attitude she's being shown, though. "No, child. Has anyone so far ever bothered to remind you of the simple fact that you are young and you do not have to be him. He called to inform me that you may be in some kind of trouble. You don't have to deal with it alone if that's true. I know it's what he would do, he's a hard headed one, but you can walk a different path if you choose."

"I'm starting to think the world may have already made that decision for me, ma'am." Jamie answers quietly.

"Nonesense, child. You always have a choice. You need only be wary of the fact that things become more complicated the longer you take to make it. You don't have to talk to me if you do not wish to. Just know that the consequences will rest on your shoulders alone if you don't."

Oh trust me. Jamie thinks. I am painfully aware.

...

She finds him outside. It's freezing cold again now but the temperature had been warmer for a while, so there's no snow on the ground. Everything just looks dead and dreary now. He's sat beneath the skeleton of an old oak tree.

"I'm gonna quit the team." She says quietly.

Jake doesn't answer. He won't even look at her.

"I just...figured you should know." She goes on. "Before you actually decide to quit yourself."

He still says nothing. Just sits there quietly fiddling with the dead grass.

Jamie sighs. "I'm sorry, for what little that's worth. I'll leave yah be now, then." She spins around and begins meandering off back towards the mansion, hands stuffed in her pockets.

"You never needed to say sorry." He says it so quiet that her feral ears just barely pick it up.

Brows furrowed, she faces him again. "What?"

"You're not the one that should be sorry." He says, a little louder. "You told me what was up. You told me to stop pushing my luck. You never tried to pretend like you were any better than you are or that we would work somehow. You've never really lied to me."

Jamie shrugs. "No sense in sugar coatin' shit, that's the way I see it. Bein' plain honest makes it easier to find friends worth havin'."

"You're smart."

"Nah. You're smart and so's Sarah. I just..have already learned some things the hard way, I guess."

"Don't quit the team. I doubt Sarah's gonna cause any more trouble now, we talked already and I think she's finally pulled her head out of her..." He hesitates; clearly there's something on the tip of his tongue that he wouldn't normally let slip. Jamie raises an eyebrow, and he clears his throat. "Well, uhm. I mean, you seem to have knocked her down a peg or two."

Jamie brings two fingers to her brow in a lazy salute, winking. "Happy to be of service. But, uh, this place, the team... I don't wanna cause any more trouble. I'm trying to be good, Jake."

His eyes harden a bit. "Don't do that." His reply is sharp enough to sting. "Don't start lying now. I saw the way you went at her, Jamie. Like a wild animal. You wanted to make her hurt, and you did. Her eyes so swollen she can hardly see out of it. If she'd come at you without any good reason, I'd have understood, but you instegated it, you knew what you were doing no different than she did. You're not trying to be good. It's not in your nature and everyone knows it."

She looks away. Nods slowly as his words sink in. Reaches for her cigarettes, suddenly not caring a lick that he'll disapprove. "Well, anyway. Now yah know why I'm quitting. I'll never be that much a team player."

He studies her for a minute, bringing a hand up to worry at the blue fur on the back of his neck. "We've still got a few months before we're finished with school. Keep training with us at least until graduation. No reason for you not to."

She hesitates. God, she wants to say no, tries like hell to resist. But he's looking at her now with big gold eyes and they've softened a fraction with hope now and she just... "Ok." She grumbles around the cigarette she's just stuck between her lips, gruff. "Just until graduation."

He offers her a small smile. "Good. I'll..see you around."

"Sure."

For a minute they just stare at eachother. Everythings changed now, and they both know it, but there's simply nothing more to be said. Jamie rakes a hand through her hair and spins around, wandering off, and that's the end of that.

...

She refuses to believe he's right. Really, outright refuses. She could be better. A decent person like Tash is, like Jake himself is. Like Joan Fletcher is and has always been.

Jamie knows she could be better.

But right now she's still got some things hanging over her head. Heavy things, weights threatening to crush her flat. If the Snake Lady and her Friends withdraw whatever protection they've apparently been extending to her, it won't matter how good she tries to be. She'll get put away for something. Maybe even murder, if there's any evidence floating around out there; it's relatively unlikely since years have passed, but she can't be sure now that there isn't. And she's heard some things about what happens to mutants with charges like that under their belts. No ones sure of the details, but it is known that there's a prison somewhere that's impenetrable. Once put away there, no one leaves.

Which means that to start being good, she's going to have to toughen up again and be very bad for a while longer.

She wanders outside for a while, making sure she's well out of earshot of Jake, and that he isn't going to come after her for any reason. Slips off to a more secluded corner of the mansions grounds, making sure no one else is around either. Lights another cigarette, heaves a sigh, and takes out her cellphone.

"Miss Fletcher." The Snake Lady greets her after one short ring.

"I'll cooperate." Jamie gets straight to the point. "What's my next move?"

"Excellent! You'll have to get away again for a while. I'll send you a location..."

...

Winter lingers a bit longer than usual; the school begins to seem weighted down with the persistence of the wet and the cold. The atmosphere is just a little too dreary and depressed. Danger Room sessions start to seem more a chore than usual for all involved. Though Sarah and Jake seem to be on speaking terms at least, and he had not actually quit, she seems more serious than before, and he simply more focused on his school work and assisting his father with things in the lab. Jamie is in and out a lot, missing sessions at random intervals, but no one bothers to question it as long as she's back by the curfew kept for all the older students - a reasonable ten o' clock. Life drags on, slowly it seems, but it does drag on.

Joan Fletcher returns, a week into the fourth month of the year, Logan at her side. To spite having evidently been staying in the cabin together, the pair keep a respectful distance from eachother, and Jamie smells little of Logan's scent on her mother. It's clear that the pair had not - been close close. Or else, they had, and are thinking to sheild her from it for now. If so, she thinks she can understand and even appreciate it. She says nothing of it.

Joan does come with news, though. "Your grandfather..well now, he won't tell me just why, mind you first of all."

Jamie blinks at her mother, feigning confusion (though she thinks she knows what's coming). "Why what?"

"Well it seems your grandmother finally crossed some line or other, I'm not sure."

"Yes, and?"

Joan blows out a breath. "And he did the one thing I thought he'd never be brave enough to do. He's divorcing her. Can you believe that?"

Jamie just shrugs as a neat little smirk tugs at her lips. "Sure I can. And I say the old man better make it hurt."

...

Logan heads her off down in the Danger Room during one of her late night sessions. They spar with eachother for a while; she seems to keep him more on his toes than she could before, and he praises her for it openly. "You've been practicing what I taught you." He seems almost surprised.

"Yeah."

"You're gonna be able to kick my ass pretty soon. Guess I'd better watch out."

She giggles a bit. "That'll be the day!"

They sit in silence a moment, catching their breathe.

"Listen, kid." Logan starts, bringing a hand up to run it over the stubble coating his cheeks and chin. "About those friends of yours I ran into..."

"That won't happen again." She answers, firm and gruff.

He raises an eyebrow. "You sound awful sure."

"Because I am. It won't happen again."

He nods. "Ok. You sure there's nothin' you wanna maybe tell me -"

"I've got it handled." She snaps.

"Right." He holds up his hands in surrender. "Well. Offer stands, kid."

"I can take care of myself." She forces herself to soften a fraction. "But. Uhm. Thanks. For looking out for my Ma."

"She doesn't make it easy, either." He grumbles. "You Fletcher girls are a stubborn bunch."

"I'm not - I'm not a Fletcher."

He tilts his head at her in that usual, curious way.

"I'm... just kinda me, I guess. Or..."

"Logan." He says.

It's her turn to give him the eybrow. "What?"

"It's my surname, kid. You should've been born Carol James Logan."

"Logan." She murmurs. "Yeah. Ok. I..did tell my grandmother I would change my last name to my father's. Not sure why I said it, I just..."

That should bring up a lot of questions. But he doesn't ask any. Just nods. "Well. Now you know. So..change it."

...

...She does...

...

It's May before Spring seems to finally, officially take hold, though snow had long since turned to rain and the trees have already begun to show at least the barest signs of life. Orouboros agrees to give Jamie a break from her training, as they're ahead of schedule with her anyway, and oddly willing to understand the importance of her finishing school. She's left with plenty of free time, which she mostly spends with Tash and Anna. The nightmares finally ease up, occuring only a few times a week, less if she finds a way to exhaust herself properly. For a little while all is right with the world.

And then something strange occurs - Sarah misses a Danger Room session. And then another.

The third time it happens, Mr. Drake finally takes the time to inform them that their fearless leader has taken a trip with the school she attends in NYC, and likely won't be back for some time. This isn't so odd a thing on it's own, there could be any number of college programs she's involved in. What is odd is that no one had been given prior warning of this, the woman herself doesn't seem to have mentioned it before simply disappearing, and Jake is totally silent on the matter.

Jamie wonders if anyone else notices, though; he stops using that awful syrum almost immediately. He had been using it still for a while but now he's just - Jake. All broad and fluffy and blue, and what's more, he seems to be walking with a little more pep in his step. Wild Thing urges Jamie to talk to him NOW but she's not sure. He's happy, and she's afraid she'd just complicate that. Unable to decide on what she should really do if anything, she just keeps avoiding him as much as possible.

Naturally, even this backfires on her.

She has a bad night, wakes to find her bed clothes soaked through with sweat. Her claws are extended and the sheets are all torn up, too, which hasn't happened in weeks. Not feeling much up to the task of trying to sleep some more, she gets up and quietly changes clothes, thinking to sneak down to the Danger Room.

He's there when she arrives. Almost as though he'd known she'd be coming.

She raises a questioning eyebrow at him.

A smile tugs at his lips. "You are nothing if not a creature of habit. It's Friday night. You come down here on Friday pretty often."

She brings a hand up to rub at the back of her neck, sheepish. "Huh. Hadn't noticed."

"I..I was thinking just earlier, I miss you as a sparring partner." He's got a sparkle in his eye, a very particular look. "You mind...?"

Dance with Future-Mate, dance with Future-Mate... Wild Thing starts to chanting in the back of Jamie's mind.

She can't resist. "Sure. I guess. Why not?"

He grins. It seems almost wolfish, but that's not at all like him. "Let's go then, Wild Thing."

He's quick for being so bulky. She's quicker, naturally, but he's good at compensating for that, and so it really is a dance they do. A Tango that had slowly grown more graceful, until now... his scent is... Wild Thing rushes to the surface, taking control by force. Dipping down quick in a move usually reserved for finishing off an opponent in a cage match, she swings a leg out to sweep his out from under him, then reaches out to grab him by his t-shirt, pulling him close and...

But this isn't a cage match, and it's Future-Mate she's fighting. She's suddenly lost as to how to proceed; stands a moment with a fist hauled back but just suspended in mid-air. For a moment they just stare at eachother, nose to nose.

"You win." He rumbles.

"Not a fight. No one wins." She answers, gruff.

"Of course it's a fight. That was kinda the point." He leans in even closer to her.

Jamie retreats even further, giving Wild Thing near total control. Might as well see what happens at this point, right? She smirks, dipping down to bury her face in the fur at his neck, taking in his scent. "Fight means yah hurt." She grumbles, her voice near a growl. "Match like this, s'not a fight."

"What is it then?" He asks, quieter now.

Wild Thing smirks. "You know."

He pulls her close. His lips brush against hers, warm and teasing.

She lets his shirt go to press a hand against his chest, stilling him. "Don't start 'less yah're ready to finish it."

A growl rumbles up his throat. "Shut up!" He snarls, moving without warning. He picks her much tinier frame up with ease, spinning her around to throw her against the wall just behind him. He lunges forward, devouring her lips with his own. She tears his shirt off with a burst of strength and aggression that only serves to egg him on, and before either knows it they're dancing again.

.

She's not sure how much time has past. It could be hours, it could be thirty minutes. She forgets to care or why she even should. Hell. There's a point in between where she forgets her own name. All she can think is...

Sweet Jesus.

.

"We..should.." He says, breathless, staring at the ceiling.

"...yeah..." She agrees.

But neither makes any real move to get on their feet.

"We didn't use - I didn't even think of -"

"Not needed. Ma took me to take care of that when she accidentally found out about me and that kid Dillon a few months back. She didn't like the idea but she hated the idea of an accidental grandkid more. As if I'd be that stupid about it." Jamie snorts, and pats his arm. "Anyway. No worries, darlin'."

"...what the hell just happened, Jamie?" He blurts suddenly.

She pulls herself to a sitting position, raking a hand through her sweat dampened hair as she smirks down at him. "Don't blame me. You sure seemed to know what you were doin' when we started in, there."

"I don't...ah..."

She knows that look on his face. He's blushing beneath all the fur. His eyes glance over her naked frame and then dart away as though... "Wait. Yah did know what yah were doin', didn't yah?" She asks, eyebrow raised now.

Silence. It speaks volumes. He meets her eyes, almost apologetic.

"You've never even seen a pair of tits before, have you?" Her amusement fades.

He shakes his head.

"Aww Jesus." She shoots to her feet. "Well hell, yah coulda told me, McCoy."

"It wasn't - I mean - I knew you knew what you were doing and you took charge so readily..."

"Well great. Now I'll never be able to look that red head of a gorgon in the eye again."

"It's not that big a deal. She's not my girlfriend, Jamie."

"Oh please," Jamie snarls, feeling cynical and growing angry, "I know she ain't now but we both know she's gonna come back from where ever the hell she is and you'll take one look at 'er with her shoes and her laces and her hair and before any of us knows it she'll have that ring back on her finger." She snatches up her clothes and begins getting dressed.

"I'm not that naive, Jamie. I knew what I wanted when I came down here. I wanted..."

She blows out a breath. She faces him again with a hand on her hip, still topless but without shame. "Oh, I can guess. You wanted a distraction and you felt like being reckless and you knew I wouldn't say no." She forces a smirk. "Which is fair 'nough, because you were right. I never say no. There aren't many things I'm good at so far, but the few things I am good at, I'm great at."

"Don't." He barks suddenly, looking almost sick now. "Don't talk about yourself like that. You've got this all wrong." But he's not looking at her.

She shakes her head. "You said it yourself. It's not in my nature to be good. Yah were countin' on it when yah came down here to meet me. It's why I sounded like fun. I know how this works."

"I was angry when I said that."

"But you were right."

He gets to his feet finally, reaching out to brush a hand against her cheek just gently, sadness behind his eyes now. "I'm sorry."

Bringing an arm up to snake it around his neck, she pulls him down and kisses him, nipping at his lip. "Tell you what, handsome. I got no more shits to give. Promise me you won't get the brilliant idea to tell Barbie it was me when yah go runnin' back to her, and you can keep me on the line long's yah want." She runs a hand through his hair. "Not like I got anythin' better to do, anyway." She adds, deliberately flippant as she steps back to put her shirt on.

"That's not what I meant this to be." He's quiet now and looks defeated.

"Well...you're welcome to prove me wrong, then." With that, she leaves him.

.

They talk some throughout the next week. He's a little awkward about it at first but warms back up to her quick enough, and suddenly they're friends again, and that'll be nice while it lasts.

Friday comes. She takes her usual trip down to the Danger Room, and isn't surprised when he's there.

"You sure about this?"

"No." But he doesn't make a move to leave her either.

She could make that move herself. She should. But she's never been that selfless, and that's the hard truth of it. "Well c'mon then, darlin'." She says, smooth. "Let's dance."

.

She passes Logan on her way back up to the girls dorm. He's either patroling the halls with purpose, or just feeling restless. Either way, she seems to startle him. He pauses as he his eyes land on her, tensing.

She smirks. "What? I manage to scare the big bad Wolverine?"

He relaxes slowly. A smile tugs at his lips. "Jesus, kid. When did you get so good at tip-toein'?"

She beams. "I've been practicin'!"

He chuckles. "Well don't you look proud? Good job. Now go to bed. It's almost two."

"Yes, sir." She slips past him.

"Hey kid." His gruff voice carries out down the hallway again.

She pauses just before the door to the girls dorm. Oh. She just screwed up. She can hear it in his voice and she knows exactly why.

"Where've you been?" His voice has gone gruffer even than it's usual. "You smell like..."

Sex. She smells like sweat and sex and Jake McCoy and she'd just allowed herself to pass within about two feet of the only other person around who could detect it that easy. Closing her eyes as her heart starts pounding, she tries to keep her voice steady. "Oh. Just..down in the Danger Room. Where else would I have been?" It's not a lie. "Jake and I were sparring." Stretching the truth, still not a lie. She turns to face Logan again. "He's not sleeping so well these days either, small wonder why."

He brings a hand up to run it over the stubble coating his cheeks and chin. "Yeah, I heard about the trouble."

"Guess it's kinda wearin' on him."

"I'll bet."

For a minute they just kind of stare eachother down. Jamie clears her throat. "I should get to bed. I've got a test tomorrow."

"Yeah." Logan nods. "Yeah, go on."

She reaches for the door to the dorm now, cracks it open.

"You're playin' with fire, kid. Take it from someone who really knows." Logan adds, quieter this time. Worried.

She goes to bed.

...

"Is that - are you hummin'?" Anna's voice rings out, incredulous.

Jamie blinks up at the older girl, eyebrow raising. They're outside; Jamie had been working in the gardens, or at least attempting to as best she could, helping Ms. Munroe out in exchange for some cash to boost her stash with. "Uh." She answers. "Yeah, I guess so. You got a problem?"

Anna crosses her arms. "Yah're plantin' flowers in 'Ro's garden. There's not a cigarette in sight and yah're hummin'. Pinch me."

Lips twitching upwards in amusement, Jamie reaches forward and pinches the Southerners arm.

"Ow! Ok, so Ah ain't dreamin'. Well what the hell's got into yah, then, girly? You feelin' alright?" She presses a hand against Jamie's forehead for as long as she dares, checking for a non-existent fever.

Jamie laughs. "I'm fine! Just...in a good mood. Suns shinin', birds 'r chirpin', smells nice out here cause they just cut the lawn. I love that smell." She shrugs. "What, you got somethin' against me bein' happy?"

Anna studies her. "Yah ain't drunk, are yah?"

The feral just rolls her eyes. "S'ppose the questions kinda fair but no. Just as content not to be, actually."

"Well not that it ain't nice to hear yah laughin' for once, Sug, Ah'm just curious as to what could possibly have managed this miracle."

"Miracle?"

"Yeah! Can't even r'member the last time Ah saw yah smile like that."

Graduations coming up soon. She's got things to be stressed about - mainly the fact that she'll be working for Orouboros as soon as school ends - but all that seems so far away right now. She and Jake are friends again and have been going at it like rabbits and for right now it is bliss, so much so that's she can almost let herself hope for something more to eventually come of it. "Aww, whatever, quit distractin' me! I'm plantin'..." She waves at the mess of mulch and flower bulbs waiting to be planted, picking up the tag for one. "... hy-, ah, hy-dran-geas? Apparently. Whatever those are. Did I say that right? Those are flowers, too, ain't they?"

Giggling openly now, Anna plants herself down in the dirt cross legged. "Yah look about as lost and ridiculous out here as Logan would. Didn't yahr Grandma ever want yah to learn about things like gardenin'?"

"Nah. She's got people for that."

"Oh. Well, yeah, that sounds about right actually. Well c'mon then, Ah can help."

"Thank god. I was thinkin' you'd never offer!"


	13. Consequences 4: Losing Control

_**Short Note: This chapter skips past a pretty big span of time for Jamie and I have some other ideas for things that happened during this time. Mostly fluff n' stuff surrounding Jamie interacting with Tash and Logan and being more loveable. I can post a separate oneshot or two on the off chance anyone's interested in reading a little of that. Review and let me know.**_

 ** _Sorry for the ridiculous length of this chapter. I'll try to make them more manageable from here on out._**

 ** _On with the story!_**

 _~Rogue~_

Her stomach turns as she waits. She's not sure why. There's nothing wrong with her. She's been feeling strange, but there's nothing to give her cause for alarm. She's not ill or wounded. Hank said her blood pressure and heart rate were kinda lower than usual, actually. And any lingering bits of Logan's 'more charming personality traits' have since disappeared again, as they always do. All that's left of him in her head is the parts she always kinda kept, perhaps somewhat on purpose.

Her tempers been spiking a little more often then normal. But she'd always had an attitude, so that's not super concerning.

She's craving the cigars he smokes again, like crazy, but hell, that could just be stress.

And sure, the sterile, bleach-y smell of the medlab is burning her nose a little more than she remembers it doing in the beginning, but she'd always hated the smell, maybe her nerves are just getting the better of her. And yeah, she can somehow hear some of the kids playing music somewhere on the floor above her, but they like to play it loud sometimes. That doesn't mean anything is wrong.

But her stomach still turns. To spite the fact she know she's not sick, she feels as though she might be sick. Because Logan was right to force her to see Hank. And actually, she knows damn well why.

Hank lumbers in, a thin manila folder of papers in his hands. The results of the blood work he'd taken a number of days ago. He has his thinking face on; looks kinda solemn. "Well, I'm sure it's no surprise to you that you're as fit as a fiddle. Not a single trace of anything wrong, per se, my dear." Trying for comforting, he lays one of his large paws over her hand. "Try to calm down."

She blows out a breath. "What did yah find, though?"

"Well, I'm afraid it's complicated. Though it's true that nothing is truly wrong with you, I must conceed that Logan is quite correct. Something just isn't quite as it should be."

Rogue huffs at him, growing annoyed. "Yah wanna try actually explainin' somethin'? We both got better things to do, Ah'm sure."

He winces. Worry overtakes his features. "This may be far more important than you realize." His voice goes quieter, more gentle. "I had a hunch about something, so I sent a sample of your blood out to a trusted old colleague of mine for him to..." He hesitates, looking fretful.

"To what, Doc?" Rogue barks, annoyance turning to anger and quickly.

"...to match it up against a sample of Jamie's DNA that I happened to have." He answers slowly. "He found similarities between some very particular strands, a startling amount of them."

"Fah heaven's sake. In English?"

"Similarities that suggest a similar mutation, Rogue. Coupled with the physical I have just performed on you... as I already mentioned, your blood pressure and heart rate were a touch lower than what was once your average. Your body temperature seems to have increased a few degrees as well, though you clearly aren't ill, and the vision test I had you perform - well you seemed hardly hindered at all by how far from the chart I had you standing, or the fact the lights were dimmed."

"I always had good vision." Her stomach is even more in knots than before though.

Hank heaves a sigh. "What is it they're playing up there?"

Rogue closes her eyes. Takes a breath. Shakes her head. And conceeds defeat. "Country music. My favorite singer, actually. Can't tell what song, though, in fairness."

"The walls of this old place are awful thick." He points out gently.

"Yeah. I know."

"Your senses aren't quite as sharp as Logan's or Jamie's, at least not yet. Those two are biological masterpieces in their own right. And while your overall metabolic rate seems to have increased I doubt it highly that you're yet capable of regeneration on the same level, either. But if you're forced to absorb Logan again, or even Jamie...well." He brings a hand up to worry at the fur on his neck. "I doubt it would take too much more for the process to complete itself. Mind, I can't be certain of how much contact causes the molecular changes; your mutation is quite complex. I'd reccomend avoiding contact with either of them quite thoroughly unless you're prepared for the consequences."

Rogue closes her eyes and tries to just breathe. Her heart feels ready to pound it's way out of her chest. "Unless Ah'm prepared to end up basically indestructable, yah mean."

"Well. That's an overstatement, at least in young Jamie's case, she's still made of flesh and simple bone after all. But the rate at which they can regenerate tissue when wounded is nothing short of mind boggling, and Logan only ages at perhaps one eigth the rate of the rest of us. It's likely the rate will be even slower for Jamie once her body is fully finished maturing. And that, I would think, for you..is certainly something to think about."

Not long ago she wouldn't have cared. In fact, this would've been the icing on a very lovely cake. She'd have gladly taken Logan's hand and absorbed however much was needed to keep her alive and at his side until death finally parted them.

But then Jamie and her mother came.

So. What now?

...

~Jamie~

Three months. Three weeks. Two days.

Three months. Three weeks. Two days.

Three months. Three weeks. Two days.

She chants it to herself a few times over, breathing deep. Three months. Breathe. Three weeks. Breathe. Two days. Exhale slow.

It's not like she hasn't had a bad day in all that time. Naturally, there've been several of them. She can't fathom why the craving is hitting this strong just today. Really, she should be excited. There were plenty of times over the past few years where she honestly wasn't sure she'd it make this far for some reason or another.

She wrings her hands a bit. They're shaking like leaves on a tree.

No, she's kidding herself. Today is different. This knot in her stomach isn't because of the ceremony today; that's an accomplishment worth being proud of. It's what's coming later that's frying her nerves. The knowledge that her breif reprieve is over.

Anna finds her after a while, strolling up slowly through the grass. "Yah gonna give up or not, sweet pea?"

Jamie scowls at her irracibly. "Gee. Thanks. Real encouragin'."

"Awww, c'mon now." Anna rolls her eyes, hand planting itself on her hip. "Ah done told yah before, Ah ain't yahr mama. Do Ah think yahr tougher than this? Hell yes. Am Ah gonna say no if yah ask?" She shrugs. "Meh. Not really my place. Just figured Ah oughta come out and see how yahr holdin' up. Yah look awful antsy." The icing on the cake to this particular pep talk is the fact that the Southerner is currently smoking a cigar herself, same kind Logan smokes. She's been on a real kick with the things recently.

Jamie deliberates for a moment. She really, honestly kinda feels like she'd kill for a smoke right now. Just one. She's been good. She'd promised Jake she'd really try and she has. In fact, she'd promised not to drink anymore either, and had even actually been trying when it came to her school work, too. Not that he'd ever actually asked any of this of her. He just had an odd way of making her want to be better. But she has been so good. Surely, if it was just this once... surely he'd be all the more disappointed if she made it this far only to suddenly give in now. That's the truth of it and she can't convince herself otherwise even for a moment. The decision is further solidified by the worry she feels for Anna's recent behavior, which has been off in many ways. A long moment passes, but she huffs out a disgruntled growl, waving the Southerner off. "M'fine. Just..needed some air, that's all."

Anna shrugs. "Well c'mon then. We're startin' soon."

.

It's just a peice of paper. But it feels heavy in her hands somehow. Like somehow, after everything else that had happened up to this point, this ultimately euphoric sense of normal teenage accomplishment can't possibly be real. She's dreaming, she must be. But she's isn't dreaming at all. This is very much real. She's posing for pictures with Jake on one side of her and Tash on the other, all dressed up in their caps and gowns. He wraps one large arm around her middle, and she can feel the warmth radiating off of him, smell his scent. She is very much awake.

(She is stupid amounts of happy just at the moment and doesn't deserve it for so many reasons but can't bring herself to care.)

.

The grounds outside are set up with tables and decorated liberally with streamers and balloons. There's lots of food, things like fried chicken and macaroni salad, and a massive cake. There's room left between rows of tables so people can dance, and there's not a cloud in the sky. Everyone eats until stuffed full, and then the music is turned up. The teachers are around, but make themselves a little more scarce.

"I'm proud of you." Jake murmurs in her ear, holding her close as they sway a bit to a slower song being played.

(She's had his arm like this all day today and it is glorious.)

Her brows furrow a bit. She snorts. "For what? Finally putting my big girl panties on so I could graduate?"

He chuckles a bit. "For lots of things, I guess. Partly because you haven't smoked."

"You were expecting...?"

"I had a hunch. You were nervous about something earlier. I could smell the worry on you."

She nuzzles his neck, burying her face in the fur there. "Worried about that job I told you I'm taking, that's all. I found out I might not be around as much as I had hoped."

"That's alright." He presses a kiss to her cheek. "Maybe we can work something out."

"We..can..?"

He pulls away to look her in the eye. "Look, I don't know what's going to happen anymore, especially not with Sarah still gone. I just know that this, whatever you want to call it, this has been..."

"Kinda...wonderful?" She suggests, though she can feel her cheeks turning red.

(Wild Thing cringes. Since when do we blush?)

Jake offers her a small smile. "Yeah. Kinda really wonderful."

"We can try a thing, then? I mean, really try?"

Surprise registers on his face. And then he's laughing.

"What?" Jamie asks, bewildered now. "What's so funny, McCoy?"

"God, Jamie, you are so dense sometimes! It is both adorable and the most stupidly frustrating, I swear. The only reason I haven't actually asked you to be my girlfriend is because I didn't think you'd agree!"

She kinda wants to laugh, kinda wants to hit him, kinda wants to tear up from the sudden wave of happiness (but she'll be damned if he's going to catch sight of that). She just kisses him instead.

...

The Snake Lady calls the very next day. "I trust you're prepared now?"

"As I'll ever get." Jamie grumbles back.

"Good. I'll send someone 'round to the usual spot at the usual time. You know the drill by now. We've a lot of work to do."

.

She's not gone all of the time. In fact, the Snake Lady herself even suggests that Jamie do whatever she must to maintain the privelage of calling the Mansion her ultimate home. Ironicly enough, this translates to doing the one thing she'd been wanting not to do up until this point - she agrees to keep training as an X-Man.

But this is all well and good as far as she's concerned. Jake is happiest with this, anyway, and she wants nothing more than for him to be happy. God, she'd kill to keep him happy, and that's not nearly as much an exaggeration as it should be. Wild Thing is getting attached on a level that scares Jamie when she allows herself to think on it.

Needless to say, she doesn't think on it much.

.

Jamie's forced to leave for the better part of a month starting at the beginning of August. Her target had whisked her away on a lavish vacation to the Bahamas, which was an astounding success. He's clearly quite smitten now. Jamie attributes her performance to the fact that anytime she was left with no choice but to take her target to bed, she was really imagining Jake in his place.

(She should maybe, quite probably, tell Jake about all this. Honesty is always the better policy, right? But she doesn't know how he'll react, doesn't think it would go over well, and just can't bring herself to risk it.)

She tells him she'd simply gone to visit her grandfather. No one else really questions her about it.

.

Jamie's grandfather is desperately in need of emotional support as the divorce process begins. Joan Fletcher contemplates traveling back up to give it to him.

"You should go be with him." Jamie tells her. "I'm totally fine now, Ma."

"You've been an angel these past weeks, and I think that worries me more than if you'd been up to all your usual shenanigans." Her mother answers frankly.

Jamie rolls her eyes. "You can check up on me whenever. I promise I'll be good as possible."

Joan clearly doesn't believe her. But she leaves anyway.

.

Orouboros gives Jamie some more leave time as September comes to a close. Her target is off to take care of some matters in Washington. He himself had pointed out that it would be better if Jamie not accompany him, as she'd be bored. Orouboros has an agent in Washington to keep tabs on the target; Jamie is dismissed as soon as he leaves town.

He's planning to be gone at least two weeks, probably more.

Jamie relishes the opportunity to settle in at the mansion for so long a period.

.

"Jamie there's something I should tell you." Joans voice is distressed.

"I'm listenin'."

"The thing is..."

"What's wrong, Ma?" Jamie's growing worried.

"The thing is that I - I think..." There's a pause, long an tense. Her mother heaves a sigh. "I think it's time I admitted it out loud. Logan and I..."

Mild panic overtakes Jamie. She raises an eyebrow reflexively, though her mother can't see it. "Yeah, 'kay, gonna stop yah there, Ma. I don't wanna know. I mean! I know but I don't wanna know know. You know?"

"Oh. Yes. I think. Uhm. How did you...?"

"Cause I'm not a child, nor am I stupid." Jamie rolls her eyes.

Her mother sighs again. "Yes. Yes, that's true, you are anything but stupid and I'm well aware of that. Look, I'm not asking anything of you when it comes to him, I'm not foolish enough to think I can make you do anything, I just..thought I'd make sure you know. So there'll be no surprises."

Brows furrowed now, Jamie huffs a growl. "Ma. Is there somethin' else yah need to tell me?"

Another long pause. "No." Her mother says at length. "Only that you're my baby girl and I love you."

Somehow, this doesn't actually leave Jamie feeling any better.

...

"... don't think she's pregs?" Jamie grumbles, squinting off into the sun, mostly talking to herself.

She's outside with Anna, in the garden again, pulling weeds, though she isn't sure she sees the point. They're only a few days out from it being October and the flowers have already begun to wilt away.

Anna freezes. "Uhm. I heard the word 'think' and 'pregs' and.. well, ah, you mind runnin' that one by me again, Sugah?"

Jamie hides a bit behind her short curtain of brunette waves, sheepish. "Sorry. M'thinkin' out loud. S'not me. Jesus. Jus' the thoughts enough to give me nightmares. No, I meant my Ma."

Anna's eyebrows raise.

Jamie sighs and plops herself down more comfortably in the grass on the outskirts of the garden. "Well, it's just, she calls me up the other day, spends half an hour talkin' about a buncha mundane shit she definitely didn't call me for. And then when it sounds like she's about to finally get to her actual point she just admits that she and Logan are a thing now."

"Oh." Anna shrugs. "Why's that strange? We kinda all figured that."

"Well now, that's just it. I'd already told her I knew that would happen eventually. Not sure I can approve but she's my Ma so what am I gonna do about it? So.."

Realization dawns behind Anna's eyes. "So it's a little weird, her actin' like it's big news."

"Exactly."

Silence ensues, a little awkward.

Anna swears. "Yah think?"

"Hell, I'd put money on it."

Joan Fletcher might very well be pregnant.

Anna swears again.

It takes a moment to click, but not too long. Jamie reaches out to her friend, trying for some comfort. "Shoot. Sorry. I wasn't thinkin'. I know you and Logan were -"

Anna shoots to her feet and stalks off. Jamie thinks better of going after her.

...

"What the fuck are we doing here?"

The curse is so sudden, so startling coming from his lips. He really never swears at all, and now suddenly he's dropping that one on her?

Jamie raises her eyes to stare at him blankly. They're sat in the rec room, her and Jake, playing cards. It's late, past midnight. She'd had a nightmare, and he'd apparently been unable to sleep at all, but neither had been in the mood for their more usual late night ritual. She raises an eyebrow when he doesn't immediately elaborate. "Uhm. You maybe wanna... I don't know, explain, or...?"

"Sarah called."

"Oh. Well...that's good. Right?"

He nods, albeit with some odd hesitance. "I mean, yes. She said she just needed to figure some things out but she's going to come back now."

Jamie pauses at this, trying to process his demeanor. "Is that..goin' to be..a problem?"

"No!" He answers quickly. "It's not like that. She was..she was so calm. She said she knew you and I are a thing and it isn't her business as long as I'm happy."

"Oh. That's..a pleasant surprise."

"It is. It's great! Problem is..." He brings a hand up to worry at the fur on the back of his neck. "You wore pink yesterday."

"Yeah. You..said you thought I'd look good with some lace on. So..."

"Well, I did. And I mean the shirt looked great on you but you hate pink."

She shrugs. To be honest, she hadn't thought much of it herself. She'd only ever kept the blouse in question because she happened to not hate it. "Usually, yeah, but..."

"And you quit smoking."

"I'm..I'm sorry, I was under the impression you people would consider that a good thing. Jake, what the hell are you on about?"

"You wore makeup the other day!"

"You took me to that fancy place up town and I'd been worried I was already going to embarass you somehow, figured I should look the part! I didn't realize any of those things were bad."

"They wouldn't be if you were doing them just to do them but dammit I don't need you to be her!" Silence ensues. The confession had poured out of his mouth so quickly and with such vehemence, she doesn't know how to answer, and he seems to have startled himself. He plows on only after a long and awkward moment has passed. "I broke up with Sarah because I was bored as hell with my life here." His voice is quiet now, the confession somehow seeming like a dirty one. "I'm sick of being everyones golden boy. The last thing I want is for you to try and soften up like that just because, what? You somehow think that's what I want?"

It hadn't occurred to her that that's what it would look like. "Awww hell. You're either givin' me too much credit or not nearly enough. I can't even tell whether to be offended." She rakes a hand through her hair.

He huffs. "I just..don't want you to think..." Without warning he reaches out to grab her shirt and pull her in for a kiss, nipping hard at her lips as he takes a handful of her hair and tugs it. "I want you, ok?"

His scent surrounds and overwhelms her. His gaze is intense, almost as though he's looking right through her. Wildthing peeks her head out of her mental cage; Jamie's lips pull back in a snarl as she growls at him. "You want Wildthing. Question is, d'yah really think you can handle her?"

He dips in close to nip at her neck, murmuring into her ear. "Why don't you let her out to play and we'll see?"

Somewhere just outside the rec room, an old grandfather clock chimes the hour. It's one in the morning.

She deliberates for a moment and comes to a hard but inescapable conclusion. He thinks he wants a bad girl. She knows just how to test if he's right. She grins. "You're comin' with me."

.

Sarah Summers pulls up in her Prius the next morning only to be met with a teary-eyed Ororo Munroe.

"Have you heard from him?" The Weather Witch's tone is downright pleading, though it hints at anger as well.

"I don't understand. Heard from who?"

"Jacob." Dr. McCoy answers, coming up to hover close at his mates side. "He and Jamie seem to have altogether vanished. Their things are missing, it seems clear they left together."

"To..where, exactly?" Sarah can't help asking the obvious question. "I mean, I just can't imagine him not leaving a note somewhere."

"There's no note. No phone call, no nothing." Ororo's frustration bleeds over further. "I might have expected something like this from her, but from Jacob?"

Dr. McCoy wraps an arm around the Weather Witches shoulders. "Try to calm yourself, my love, they are adults after all."

"An adult would've called to inform his mother of where he was off to in such a hurry!"

Sarah heaves a tired sigh. She has a trump card where Jake is concerned. She's sparing with it's use out of courtesy and respect, but it's so uncommon to see the Weather Witch in such a state that the redhead feels as though she can justify it. "Give me a minute, Ms. Munroe." She murmurs quietly. "I'll talk to him."

The Weather Witch looks somewhat confused, but Sarah wanders off and out the garages side door before another word can be said. Taking a breath and cursing, (first comdemning her ex-boyfriend for being a reckless imbecile, then his new girlfriend for being the kind of rough-and-ready terrible influence that she cleary is), she presses a few buttons on her phone and brings it to her ear.

It rings. Once. Twice. He's thinking, probably. Deliberating. Moving out of earshot of his new squeeze. It's understandable. She doesn't worry, and really tries not to judge.

Half way through the last ring, there's a click. "Hello Sarah." He murmurs.

The ghost of a smile graces her lips. It's a silent understanding they'd recently come to, seeing as they had been been friends since they were quite young - she won't call too often, but he always answers when she does. "Hey, Jakey." She croons softly. "You ok?"

"Yeah. I'm ok. I'm..guessing you've talked to my mom."

"Yep. She's pretty broken up."

"This wasn't..exactly..planned." He sounds a little distressed. "I knew she'd be upset so I just..."

"This isn't a nudge for you to do anything you don't want to. I'm just checking in."

"It's just a road trip. Cabin fever."

"How long?"

"I don't know. Few weeks. A month, maybe. Headed for somewhere in Canada I guess."

Sarah nods, though he can't see it. "Good enough. Hey, just. Be safe."

"Always." There's a pause; another voice floats down the line, muffled, but it's clearly a young woman's alto. Jamie. He hangs up.

Sarah's hand tightens around the phone. A sudden surge of intense, jealous anger brings with it the urge to throw the thing right at the ground, but she resists. Blowing out a breath, she strolls back inside. "They're fine. It's just a little impromptu road trip, they're headed way up North I guess. 'Somewhere in Canada', which..tells us pretty much nothing, but whatever."

"Well he could've told me at least that!"

Sarah pauses a moment and counts it down. She knows him, she knows him so well, that the moment she hits 'one', the sound of a ringing phone fills the garage. Ororo pulls her phone out and brings it to her ear. "Jacob McCoy!"

Sarah always did pride herself on being a problem solver.

...

 _~Sometime later.. 'somewhere in Canada'.~_

"You cannot be serious."

To be fair, they're currently holed up in a crowded old cellar with a chicken wire cage at it's center. Jamie's fought here before, but has to admit it's a far cry from the Warehouse. However, the Warehouse isn't open on Wednesdays, so this'll have to do.

"What's wrong? Don't tell me your gonna pick now to startin' talkin' like a pansy."

Jake's jaw clenches. The look in his eye hardens somehow; he's scowling. "I can handle anything you throw at me just fine, Jamie." His voice it's natural, almost-growl of a baritone even to spite the fact he took his 'medicine' this morning. "Don't test me. I'm just having a hard time adding all this up."

She softens. It's in her nature to be bull-headed and she can't help being how she is, but she doesn't mean to push him too hard. "I'm sorry. I know you have a lot of questions. Look, it's actually pretty simple. You said you want Wildthing. So I'm gonna show you what it looks like when the animal comes out to play. You're either gonna be able to handle it just fine like you say yah can or..."

He pauses a moment, thinking it seems. "Or what?" He asks at length.

Jamie shrugs, feigning a careless sort of confidence that she doesn't really feel. "Eh. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Thankfully they've hit territory where their age isn't a restriction anymore. She strolls up to the bar and orders two shots to down in rapid succession. God, she loves being home.

Jake hesitates, deliberating a moment, and then orders himself the same thing she had. Naturally, he near chokes to death after taking half of the first shot.

Chuckling, Jamie calls for a bottle of some local cider and shoves it at him. "Wash it down, and for pete's sake, don't go tryin' to shoot 'em like I jus' did!"

Appropriately sheepish, he just nods.

Tierney Doran gets up in front of the chicken wire cage. "Hellllooo ladies and germs!" The audience chuckles politely, mostly because Tierney's dad is the owner of the place. She plows on pretty quick. "We've got a pretty long list of participants for this lovely Wednesday night and, ah, I've got an equally lovely proposition for you all. My good friend Wildthing just got in tonight and she sounds like she's really lookin' for some trouble. Last up here a full ten minutes with her and yahr beers free for the rest of the night, on top of the usual spoils of war of course. Soooo. While she makes her way up here...who wants to go first?"

Jamie hops up to place a kiss on Jake's cheek and hands him her tank-top before she starts shoving her way through the crowd. She catches T's gaze for half a moment as she makes her way past and her stomach flip-flops a bit. T never used to have that look in her eye when facing Jamie. That look like she's actually afraid. But Jamie's used to getting that look from folks now, even learning it can come with advantages, so she says nothing and just stalks up to stand in the cage with arms crossed over her sports-bra covered chest.

.

A few hours later, after she's already beaten a few big boys to a pulp. A biker in a leather vest with a born-to-kill tattoo splashed across his chest stomps towards her with a look he wishes could be menacing.

She plays with her food until the last minute and then knocks him out clean as the rest. A tipsy Jacob McCoy collects the money she'd just won him.

.

They exchange few words on their way to the tiny hotel they'll be staying at for the night. He's drunk for the first time, she's tipsy on top of riding the high of a 'fight-night', and neither has much to contribute in the way of civil conversation.

They accomplish many other activities behind closed doors this night, though, and neither regrets a thing.

.

She wakes quite early the next morning to his furry arm wrapped firm around her waist. Something about this is so comforting that she curls into him further and falls right back to sleep herself.

She experiences no nightmares this night, or any other night wherein he sleeps with her like this.

.

They visit Jamie's mother and grandfather the next day. Jamie's grandfather inundates Jake with a polite but unending barrage of questions about his mutation (Jake hadn't taken his 'medicine', per Jamie's request). Jake answers with his usual calm, cool sort of patience. The old man is just curious, after all.

Jamie takes her mother aside. "I can smell it, you know."

"You can smell any and every smell that there is to smell within about a five mile radius I think." Joan answers, blasé. "I might need you to be a touch more specific."

"Mother." Jamie grumbles flatly. "I think you know exactly what I'm smellin'."

"I think you should learn to mind your own business, Carol James."

"If it's true than this is completely my business, though! And what's worse, I'm not the only one who should already know!"

Joan hesitates. She appears outwardly calm, but her eyes tell a different story. "Jamie, please. You need to understand. There were..complications with my first go around, you nearly didn't make it into the world, and I'm not a young woman anymore. I'm not far enough along. Logan can't know yet, ok?"

"I barely like the guy but Jesus, Ma, that seems wrong enough I'm willing to argue in his favor. He should know."

"Promise me, Carol James. He's likely to be so happy, I just can't bare the thought of... I just need another month. I'll be a little more sure after that."

Against Jamie's better judgement, she agrees.

(Damned if the excitement doesn't start to get to her, though.)

.

She takes Jake to the Warehouse this night. He doesn't hesitate to tell her that he loves the place.

.

He takes up the habit of drinking anytime she does. She warns him this may be a very bad idea, for many reasons. He does not seem to care overmuch. Thankfully, money isn't difficult to come by in her case.

.

He calls his mother every now and then, and always lies through his teeth about what he's been up to.

Jamie neither encourages nor discourages this behavior. She doesn't approve, but hell, she's hardly in a place to be taking the moral high ground, is she?

.

 _~Three and a half weeks later. The Warehouse.~_

He's four drinks in and clearly on the verge of tipsy. Dear God. She knows she shouldn't exactly be encouraging him to drink like she drinks, but she just loves him when he's drunk. He's just so adorable when he's drunk. And he can, they've discovered, techinically, keep up with her. He'll be wasted, but he can keep up. It's nice to have someone around who can keep up.

She orders another four shots of whiskey. Two for me, two for you.

He downs them like a champ. Damn, he got used to that quick.

Or did he? She tries to count out in her head how long she's had him out here livin' like a proper degenerate with her. It could be only a week they've been here, could be two damn months for all that she knows at the moment. He's taking a semester off of his schooling and Ouroboros will contact her when they need her back; time is near meaningless here in the meanwhile.

The crowds huge tonight, as it has been the last four nights, probably because folks had long since caught wind of Wildthing being back in town. She's back to being the Warehouse's favorite cash cow, at least for a little while, and she's loving every minute of it.

T's come to hang out for the night, too. She sticks close to Jamie and is acting kinda..squirrely. Jamie can't pin point the problem, the other girl's just acting strange. Her eyes keep roaming the length of the room as though she's looking for somebody, and she's all hunched in on herself.

"You sure you're ok?"

"Yeah." T snaps. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You tell me."

T scans the room again.

"Are you lookin' for someone?" Jamie snaps. "Or what?"

T orders herself a double of some kinda vodka and downs half in one go. Her hands are shaky. "Hey. Just. Listen, kid. You'd have my back if someone came lookin' for me, right?"

"I'd kick a dozen asses for you and you know it but I'd still like to know what the hells goin' on."

T shakes her head. "Ain't important. What is important is that I came alone tonight. Anyone comes around askin' about me, it's nobody I wanna see. Will yah send 'em packin' for me?"

Jamie rakes a hand through her hair. She doesn't like being treated like some kinda attack dog, but she owes T too much to refuse her. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever yah need."

T pats her shoulder. "Thanks, kid. Good luck up there, not that yah need it."

"Jamie! You're up next!" Jake appears at her side as T walks off. "Didn't you hear?"

Jamie hadn't. She musters up a grin to send at him. "Show time!"

Her first fight pits against her the usual fair - tall and beefy and tattooed, clearly thinks he's tough stuff. He gives a her a decent workout due to his size, but the full moon must be messing with everyones heads or something. The crowd is louder and even more rowdy than usual, and even her opponent seems drunk and maybe just off his game. In fact, so does her next one a short while later. Wildthing takes fuller control than usual, less to enjoy, more to play the watchdog that T had seemed to be suggesting she'd need to.

Jake doesn't seem to notice anything off. But then again, he's pretty far into his cups.

As midnight hits she starts to tire of being so on edge. Her instincts are picking up on something she's not coherently able to pinpoint, but it's got her feeling too tense. The night is young by the Warehouse's usual standards, but Jamie's about ready to call it already.

The crowd erupts into a disappointed chorus of 'booo' as it's announced, but she steps down after just an hour and begins leading Jake towards the exit. She needs a smoke, and he needs to sober up a bit anyway. He protests some and is clearly not ready to stop the party yet but his trust in her is pretty total so he follows her without too much resistence.

The fresh air does them both good.

She leads him over to her truck where it's parked out in the field behind the Warehouse, and tries to steady him while he hops up to sit on the bed of it before she lights up a cheap cigar.

He scowls as the breeze sends the smoke wisping in his direction. "Ugh. Hate those things."

"Sorry."

There's a pause. He's got a drunken sort of thinking face on. "Does your mom know that you...?"

"Ah. Yah're gonna have to be a bit more specific there, bub." He giggles. She raises an eyebrow, just managing to keep a straight face. "Care to share the joke?"

"You talk funny."

"Sure I do."

"Your mom." He's got a thought stuck in his head, apparently. "Does she know about you and this place."

"Oh. Yeah, sorta. I'm sure she hates the idea but there's a lot she and I don't bother discussin' anymore."

His brows furrow. "But she's your mom. Shouldn't she get a say in some things?"

"S'easier on us both if she minds her own business and I just mind mine. Family isn't always as easy as the examples you've got. She pressed me for too much information once almost a year ago now and I don't think she's fully over it yet. So..lesson learned."

He grows quiet and almost sullen. She walks off a few paces to smoke in peace and leave him to his thoughts.

Huh. That's odd.

There's a car a few spots down from her truck that seems...it's just an SUV at first glance, a popular model, shiny in black. She strolls closer to it a few paces, inspecting. Somethings set off a warning bell in her head. What is it? Cars a little more polished and pretty than any of the other SUVs around, for one. But that's not it. The licence plate. That's it, isn't it? It's a Virginia plate; it's owner is awful far from home.

Virginia. Yeah. That's exactly what it is.

She stalks back over to Jake. "Hey. I know there's a lot goin' on in there tonight but try to think for me. You remember seein' anyone that looked a little outta place?"

He blinks at her owlishly. "I don't..think so.."

She nods slowly, steals another look at the black SUV, rakes a hand through her hair. Deliberates. "Right. You stay put a minute. I gotta go check on somethin'."

He hops down off the truck and sways a bit but finds his footing. "You think there's trouble."

"Possibly. Nothin' I can't handle it."

"I don't wanna sit out here alone."

She huffs a growl. He..answers in kind. Sometimes she forgets; he's not afraid of her and never has been. She puffs her cigar and starts walking back towards the Warehouse, more or less not caring if he follows.

They don't have to look too far. T is trailing a hot, determined path across the parking lot, shoulders hunched and head ducked. Jamie isn't surprised to see that someones following her friend. In fact, she'd even known just what he'd look like - smart black suit, short cropped hair, clean shaven. There's a small gold pin in the shape of a snake eating it's own tail attached neatly to his shirt collar. She even knows he's probably packing at least two weapons.

Dammit, T, what've yah done this time?

Jamie throws a hand out straight to halt her friend. "Alright, now just where did yah think you were goin', anyway? Yah're not about to outrun this one too easy, trust me."

T's eyes are wide and fretful as she looks up. "I know that already, are yah gonna help me out here or what?" Her tone outright demanding.

Jamie hesitates. The solution to this one is going to be anything but simple, but she contemplates just walking away on principle. She doesn't like T's tone.

The man in the black suit comes to a halt some paces away as he spies the feral; his jaw sets and his brows furrow. A long moment passes, and then finally, he speaks. "I've got orders to apprehend Tierney Doran at any cost. She just needs to be alive when I deliver her. Use of force is allowable at my discretion. Please do not test me."

T tries to dart out of Jamie's reach, but the feral snatches the older girl by the arm before she can. "Just - sort yourself out, will yah?" She grumbles. "Since when did yah get to be such a pansy?"

T only spits a curse in response.

Jamie sighs and addresses the man in the suit. "Alright look, big guy, just tell me whatever it is yahr after."

"That information is privileged."

"Yeah, I'll bet. Thing is, you seem to be all alone, so I'm a little insulted that you somehow think you're gonna win this fight."

The man in the suit reaches smoothly into an inside pocket of his jacket and - oh. That's..no regular handgun. The thing is huge and he's now aiming it straight at her chest. "There's a rumor you can't be killed, but all the same, I doubt you want to find out what this will feel like." He says.

She remembers full well what a bullet feels like. Her eyes zero in on the weapon; Wildthing tears to the surface with protective force.

"Jamie." Jake calls out from somewhere just behind her, sounding much more sober now as panic overtakes him.

The man in the suit grimaces. "Your only mistake in this was that you were foolish enough to truly believe I was alone, Ms. Logan. You leave me no choice." He says. And then several things happen at once. He fires the gun, Jake lets out a snarl as someone attacks him from behind, T yelps in suprise and proceeds take off running like a frightened animal, and Jamie rapidly starts to lose any control she might have still had over anything, including herself.

Wildthing stumbles back and hits the back of a truck several paces away; she's staggered, but adrenaline prompts her to stay on her feet. The large bullet lodged in her breastbone remains there rather stubbornly; she plucks it out as her anger only increases. She charges at the man in the suit with a vicious, reckless abandon, claws out. She intends to gut him like a fish, but is staggered as he fires again, hitting her in the shoulder, then again in the leg, and then again in her arm. Jamie's control slips further until it evaporates, and Wildthings only coherent thought process is the one that leads her to conclude that death by claw would be too quick in this case. She feels the need to enjoy this.

This all takes place in what only amounts to the space of some handful of minutes. It's unclear how, as another gunshot rings out somewhere in between, but Jake shakes his opponent off and barrels forward to tear Wildthing away from hers. The feral is so deeply consumed by rage, she brings up a fist, unable to fully recognize Jake as friend for a moment. But she catches herself as his scent fills her nose.

"Down girl." He stutters some, breathing heavy. "He's not getting back up anytime soon." He brings a hand up, shaky and slow until it gets close enough, at which point he moves with surprising speed to pluck a bullet out from where it had been visibly lodged in her collar bone.

Wildthing stares down at her handiwork, pride fading some and mixing with vague horror as pain fades away and she begins to remember herself. "No." She agrees, voice gruffer even than her usual. "No, he's not." In fact, the man in the suit might very well not be getting back up at all.

Which means they don't have time to waste.

Wildthing shoves past Jake and stalks over to where she can smell a fearful T is hiding. She sneaks up quiet and takes hold of the other girls shirt collar. "You wanna tell me just what the hell that was about? Maybe now? Maybe before I break somethin'? Cause I'm really in the mood to break somethin'."

"Me and my girls were hired to do a job! That's all! And we did it and then weird shit started happenin' and the others started disappearin' and now they're after me 'cause they probably realize I'm the only one who knows where the container is! I'm dead either way, I've been trying to buy time for myself, that's all!"

Wildthing sniffs at the air around T, just because she wants the other girl to keep squirming for a minute. "Funny world we live in, huh? I used to look up to yah. Never thought I'd end up bein' able to make yah just about piss yahrself."

Jake lumbers up. He's blue, she notes. His button down had ripped at the seems and hangs mostly unbuttoned and useless off his furry shoulders. "Jamie, I'm not sure if anyones seen us back here but if they call the police..."

Wildthing huffs a growl and lets T go. "Do what you want. But you won't survive these guys alone."

Unsurprisingly, T follows them back to their hotel and gets herself a room there.

.

"You ok?" Jake steps out onto the small, dingy balcony off their room.

Jamie glances at him from her position sitting on a railing. "I guess."

"Any chance you're up to talk about what just happened?"

She scowls. "What's to talk about?"

"The guy knew your name, Jamie."

She sighs. "Yeah, and?"

"And I think I have a right to know some things! Why the guy recognized you, for starters! Or maybe what the hell he meant by 'you can't be killed'?"

"He's just - he works for the same people I do. That's all, and it's just rumors. You're drunk. Go to bed, Jake."

"Jamie, this isn't a joke. Who are you working for? Those guys were trained like some kinda assassins, I only fully managed to stop the one because your friend shot him! And come to think of it, why did she have a gun?"

"Sounds like you should just be thankful she did. Look, the people I'm working for...I don't know much about them."

"Then why are you working for them?" He won't let it go.

"Because - because I'll be in bigger trouble if I don't work for them."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Dammit, it's none of your business," she snarls, snapping at him harshly, "just let it go!"

Her phone rings.

She pulls it out. "Shit. It's..it's my boss. I gotta answer, can you just...?" She waves him back inside the hotel room.

His jaw sets. He scowls. A staring contest ensues. The phone stops ringing for half a minute and then starts right back up again. He huffs, and heads back inside.

She answers the phone. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Two of my men are on their way to the hospital." Trixie LaBelle's voice answers tightly. "Air lifted in critical condition. Explain."

"They were harrassing a friend of mine. One pulled a gun. He shot me."

Trixie scoffs. "Well you certainly sound to have survived just fine."

"You ever been shot before, lady? What do you think, it tickles? You'll have to forgive me, I wasn't exactly in the mood to play nice after that."

"Perhaps you should've been smart enough to walk away at the sight of it, as I'm sure was his intended outcome. You had better be praying they do not die. I would be quite upset. Do not test me further. You are now charged with the task of retrieving with force what Tierny Doran stole and to be clear, I am ordering you to be anything but merciful. Teach her a lesson for me, or there will be consquences. Good night, Ms. Logan."

It's two in the morning. So much happening, and it's only been two hours since her last fight at the Warehouse.

Jamie stares down at the phone for a long minute before calmly returning it to her pocket. She pulls out a cheap cigar, lights it and takes a slow puff, and then just sits there like that for a time, staring at the wall and half wishing the bullets had just put her out of her misery.

(Ok, so she's being dramatic, but who could blame her?)

Jake slips back out eventually. "Hey." He murmurs, calm now.

"Hey."

Silence. They're both lost in thought.

"I have a confession." He murmurs at length.

"What?"

"I..don't know if 'enjoyed' is the right word. But I gave the guy that came at me a pretty good beating before your friend shot at him. And after. I really hit him. I felt...it just felt kinda good somehow."

She meets his eyes with understanding. "Yeah. It does."

He scrubs a hand over his face. "I..need.."

She tells him there's a bottle stashed in her bag. He retrieves it and pops the cap but sets it aside without drinking.

"You know my mom always kinda warned me about..." He hesitates.

"About girls like me. It's ok. She was right to."

"But somehow I don't remember anyone ever warning me that it would feel so good to let go like this."

"Your parents sheltered you, Jake. That's what you were sick of." Jamie pauses, thinking. Coming to a hard decision. "Maybe they were right to but it doesn't matter now. What matters is that you left with me willingly and I'm not gonna hold your hand the same way they did. You were right. I owe you some answers." And she gives him some. A lot. Explains everything almost impulsively, word vomiting about things she wouldn't normally talk about at all.

She almost thinks she must be dreaming, because he doesn't seem to be judging her. At worst she sees pity in his eyes, but she supposes that's preferable to some of the alternatives. And then he kisses her, and she forgets to care anyway.

...

Tierney Doran is rethinking every life decision at the moment. She hasn't made very many good ones. Joining up with the crew of hired guns she'd been running with was probably the worst. Stealing that shipping container is pretty high up on the list as well, but in fairness, she didn't know that at the time.

The dumbest decision, however, the one that really makes her an idiot, is the fact that she'd impulsively decided to pick pocket the girl who is easily the most dangerous person within a twenty mile radius. Tierney has a pocket full of cash now. God, it is so much cash. It'll be a solid start for her. But she's gotta get away first and she's got a sinking feeling in her gut that she won't make it. And she's right, of course, because Jamie's waiting for her. Jamie's likely to be wise to any and every move Tierney would pull.

Jamie's got a look in her eye like she's not about to take any more crap from anyone, least of all Tierney Doran.

 _Well. Shit._


	14. Meanwhile 2: Rogue

_About five years ago - Rogue_

She's only ever absorbed him twice before.

Well, no. That's sort of a lie. She's absorbed him a couple of other times, but only ever on accident, for mere seconds. It's more accurate to say that he's only ever had to force her sorry hide back to life two times before. And really, that means the count was already higher than it should be.

They aren't even on a mission when it happens this third time. They're actually supposed to be on a date. She's wearing her favorite mini skirt and and he's actually not wearing clunky old work boots or flannel for once and today is there one year anniversary.

One year. It's been a long and bumpy ride but they made it a whole year.

And after everything that's happened, after every dangerous mission they'd both been on, after every other scary or terrible or just plain weird thing that had happened, after making it as a couple for that whole lovely year even, the thing that threatens to do them in now is some drunken teenager who's too busy trying to feel up his girlfriend to watch the road.

The little red sports car slams into the side of Logan's truck at about ninety miles an hour. The impact sends the truck rolling. Marie's got her seatbelt on, of course, but her head bashes against the window next to her, which ends up shattering explosively in the next moment. A showering of tiny glass darts embed themselves in her neck and cheek, and her arm, which is already bent at an angle it should not be.

She remembers nothing for a long time afterwards.

(The kid that had been driving the sports car stumbles out and collapses in shock. Wolverine works free of what's left of his truck and comes damn close to beating the kid senseless, but the teenagers baby cheeks are streaked with tears that fall from eyes wide in horror. Logan leaves him be.)

.

Rogue wakes after a day. Logan does not.

.

"Storm said you should be taking it easy while -"

"You geeks would jump offa cliff if Storm told yah to, Icecube. Mind yahr own business."

"Is that you or him talking?" Bobby scowls. "The fact that I can't tell - yeah, that's a little scary, Marie."

Marie. He doesn't call her that altogether too often. That's him trying to remind her who she is. Problem is, he doesn't really even know Marie anymore either.

But he deserves some points for trying.

She blows out a breath and forces the accent that accompanies her words to sound a little more Mississippi. "Ah'm fine. Ok? Ah'm restless but fine. His mutation does that and it jus' ain't fadin' as fast this time. Ah'm just gonna go blow off steam. Ah'll be back by mornin'."

"Well - look, maybe you just shouldn't be alone." Bobby's got a thinking face on. "You could let me come with you."

A scowl contorts her features. She instantly loses herself again. "Like hell, boyscout. Go play kissy face with Kitty, why don't'yah?"

"Kitty?" He crosses his arms. Angry. "Kitty gave me back the ring two months ago. Also, she's not even here. Were you always this self-absorbed?"

No, she didn't used to be. But she and Logan...she shakes her head. "Shit. Ah'm a bitch these days." She admits, quiet and contrite. "Ah'm sorry."

"Let me come with you. We can go wherever you want."

"I got a lot o' Logan swimmin' around inside mah head." She warns. "Yah probably won't like what I got in mind."

"Probably not." He concedes. "But I like the idea of you going off on your own even less. We're all family here, our first job is to look after eachother. You're not yourself. Please let me come with you."

She sighs.

.

"This. Is a terrible idea." Bobby mutters, clearly to himself.

Rogue hears with Wolverine's ears and scowls at him anyway. "Are yah really always this much a wet blanket these days? No wonder Kitty left yahr sorry ass." Where did that come from? She doesn't even have anything against Bobby, there's no reason she should want to hurt him. The angry wave of utter bitchiness doesn't let up, though. She'd bite any head off just at the moment, wouldn't matter who was standing next to her.

His blues eyes scrutinize her closely. "You're lucky I know you don't mean that." He answers calmly. "Is the attitude just because of Logan?"

"I don't know." She answers honest, and darts off to the bar to grab a drink. Rogue thinks double tequila, no salt, her usual order, but what comes out of her mouth is Logan's shot of bourbon and a beer. It hits the spot just perfect. She orders another shot for good measure and decides to stop thinking so hard. She'll be better off if she stops pretending - Marie isn't really here. Be easiest if she just hands the reigns over to the one who is in charge right now.

Only problem is that doing so leaves her with a different kind of craving. She'd meant to just come to the bar and watch. Really, she shouldn't even know about this place. Logan had never told her or anyone else at the mansion about it. And the rough hewn chicken wire cage set at the back of the room is no place for a little thing like Rogue to be trying to get her kicks, and she knows it. But resistance is simply futile. She tips the beer back to chug it some and before she knows it her feet are carrying her over and right to where she needs to go.

"Marie." Bobby calls after her, worried now. "Marie, you cannot possibly be thinking about doing what I think your -"

But she's already talking to the lady with the banged up clipboard housing a list of names on a piece of notebook paper. The girl seems skeptical, but Marie all but snatches the clipboard right out of her hands, and that's that.

Bobby looks almost angry. "This is why I thought it might be a good idea if I come with you, you know, you really shouldn't be -"

Marie orders more shots of bourbon and shoves one at him. "Drink with me."

That gives him pause. He stares down at the small glass full of amber liquid. "You know I don't..."

"I know Kitty didn't and didn't like you to. She's gone now, so yah can do whatever yah want. Or had that thought not occured to yah?"

"We can't drive all the back home drunk, Marie. Or had that thought somehow not occurred to you?" He throws it back at her.

A familiar name is called out from a guy with a speakerphone back near the chicken wire cage. Marie grins. "So we'll get a room somewhere."

"With who's money?" He challenges. "Cause I sure as hell am not paying."

Feeling extra reckless, she removes her sweater and shoves it at him. "Oh, just give me about - aww, I'll be generous. Ten minutes. Be back soon, peaches." She sashays off through the crowd to step in the cage.

Thankfully her exposed skin isn't a problem. Her opponent goes down for the count in all of five minutes. The small crowd is stunned into utter silence for a short while, but then erupts into frantic cheers and a low chant for more.

Marie spies Bobby, who looks away quickly. His cheeks look to be flushed, assuming her eyes aren't decieving her, and he's ordered himself another drink.

Rogue smirks. Now Bobby Drake. I thought yah didn't approve.

.

"We were fightin'."

"What?"

"Logan an' Ah. The night of the accident. We were havin' a fight."

"Oh. Uh..."

"He proposed. Had a ring an' everything."

"And that lead to a fight?" Bobby asks slow, clearly confused.

"Ah said no." Marie answers, quieter. "I don't know why. Maybe..maybe because Ah've had him in my head a couple times, there's somethin' there, it just doesn't feel like his hearts in it. Ah tried to point it out, ask him if maybe there was somethin' Ah's missin' an' he just got angry."

"I'm sorry." Bobby answers, quiet and clearly sincere.

She shakes her head. "You know what? Ah'm not. Ah don't know if it's what I really want either. Mean Ah've only ever been with him since -"

Bobby glances at her, curious now. "Can I ask..."

He's probably drunk. This conversation may be about to get interesting.

Marie shrugs. "Ask away."

"...how do you and him...uhm, I mean..."

She giggles a bit. "Very carefully. Well, least at first."

"You can control it that well now?"

"Well, no. There don't seem to be a real 'off switch', it's just that Logan can handle a little more contact than anyone else could so Ah haven't needed to worry too much. But there is a way Ah can cheat it."

Bobby nods. "Ah. I see. The Doc gave you some of his magic elixir."

"Yeah, a little. Haven't used it much so far, he made me promise it would only be for if it was like, really necessary. But..."

"But..what?"

"Well before you insisted on comin' with me tonight, Ah had been thinkin', just maybe..."

"Oh. Well. My apologies, I guess."

"No, no, Ah'm glad yah came with me. Ah'd've done somethin' real stupid if yah hadn't."

There's a pause, quiet and contemplative.

He trails a hand over to gently take up her gloved one and squeeze.

.

Somethings wrong this time. She can just feel it.

She's not hungover in the slightest when she wakes the next morning. She'd drunk enough that she should be, but she feels fine. No, better than fine. She feels like she could go at it in that cage again and still not break a sweat. But it's been days. The extra energy from her newest dose of Logan should be fading quicker than it is. In fact, the generally enhanced senses it came with should also be fading quicker, shouldn't they? Or maybe she's just imagining it.

Whatever the case, she wakes far earlier than Bobby, and is frozen for a long while, just staring down at his sleeping form.

He's not wearing anything. And she's wearing nothing but his shirt. His scent will be all over her, and hers all over him. She abruptly hopes to God that today won't be the day Logan decides to grace the world with his presence again.

.

Unsurprisingly, she receives a phone call some time later as she and Bobby are eating breakfast at some greasy spoon diner off the highway.

Logan is, in fact, awake.

.

"He might decide he wants your head on a sliver platter." She points out quietly as they close in on the school.

"I know." He answers with a sigh.

"Yah could get lost for a while."

"I could."

But he won't.

.

Logan smells it. He has to. There's no way he doesn't smell it. Marie positively reeks of stale sweat and alcohol..and sex, and Bobby Drake. She'd showered, but the smells stuck in her hair and clothes, there'd been nothing she could do.

Logan seems to be more in shock at first. The anger takes hold but slowly. Bobby takes note of it and is prepared - a cold chill sweeps through the air all around him. His hands and arms begin to coat themselves in ice, and it goes downhill pretty quick from there. Thankfully, Logan had met them outside, so there's no one else around to get caught in the crossfire. Just Rogue, who steps out of the way calmly. She's worried some, but Bobby can look after himself well enough, she's seen it before. He doesn't try to really go on the offensive anyway. Just dodges. It only takes about five minutes for someone to notice something wrong. The sky above turns dark and electric as Storm comes out and threatens, quite pointedly, to fry Logan like a fish stick.

Thankfully, that seems to bring him to his senses some.

He leaves the school that night.

.

Rogue remembers herself after a few more days. Logan's mutation fades, though it takes much longer than usual. Once she's got her head screwed on straighter, she and Bobby talk, and come to the conclusion that 'it' was honestly nothing. There's very little awkwardness in the end; they're both adults who had just been in need of a distraction.

Logan stays gone for months.

.

She actually liked him better the way she first met him. That's part of the problem. She liked him better when he was this wild, untamable thing just drifting around from place to place. She liked him better when he was more Wolverine than he was just Logan.

Now he's usually just..Logan. And it's not that she wanted to see Bobby hurt or anything, far from it. But catching a glimpse of her Wolverine again, seeing the rage and jealousy put that fiery light in Logan's eyes, and all over little old Rogue..she suddenly remembers every reason why she wants nothing more than to be his mate.

Maybe she can make this work. Maybe it'll all be ok.

As it is, actually. He comes back and they just talk and she apologizes because that's what she should do and they agree to take start over a bit because that seems like what they should do and...

She asks him again, just once. Logan, what am Ah missin'?

He never tells. And she eventually learns to live with it, because what else should she do?

.

He'd put a ring on her finger just before this other woman showed up. This pretty, thin little wisp of a woman with the crooning alto and a body that belied her actual age. This pretty, mild mannered, perfect little wisp of a woman and her daughter that looks just like Logan (except smaller and even more full of attitude for it).

.

Two weeks ago - Rogue and Logan

"Do yah think I just don't notice?"

She's in the Danger Room, pausing briefly between solo sessions when he enters. "Notice what, Sug?" She faces him, hand planted on her hip.

"Used to be you'd ask me to come down here with yah." He leans causually on the wall, hands in his pockets. "We can't avoid this forever, Marie."

"Ah'm not avoidin' anythin'." She answers, waving him off flippantly. "Just stopped seemin' appropriate, is all."

"Appropriate? Since when was spendin' time with a friend not ok?"

"Since we stopped bein' just friends a long time ago and then yah ex showed up." She answers, a little more tightly. "Say, is she still yah ex? Or do yah still not even know?"

He rakes a hand through his hair. The look in his eyes is answer enough.

"Nope, not yah ex at all." She answers for him. "That's good for you, Sug. I really mean it."

He eyes her up a minute. "No you don't."

She sighs. "Ah just..don't know her well enough to have an opinion, then."

Logan moseys over to hover over Rogue a bit now, eyebrow raised and arms crossed over his barrel chest. "I know you better than that, Marie. You don't like her much, do yah?"

Rogue scoffs, but he gives her one of his looks and Jesus, she never could resist him, could she? "Ah just ain't sure you an' her are the proper fit for each other. She seems a little too..quiet, is all. Bet she can't even shoot whiskey, bless her heart."

Logan lets out an 'oof'. "I know what it means when you pull that one out. 'Bless her heart'." He mimicks the Mississippi accent, to amusing affect. "That means 'trouble'."

Rogue huffs. "Alright. Fine. Yah right. Ah hate her. She acts a 'saint' but Sugah, you an' Ah both know folks like that tend to have an agenda of some kind, and it's never nothin' good."

Meloncholy softens his features. "Yah didn't used to talk like that."

"Ah ain't a kid anymore, Logan."

"Yah're not a kid at all." He agrees. "But yahr still young. You've got all the time in the world but that doesn't mean there's any sense in yah wastin' that time bein' stuck on me. I was never worth it, Darlin'."

"Clearly Ah'm not the only one who thinks that's not true." Rogue reaches up to brush her bare fingers just lightly against his cheek, her tone softer now.

He leans into the touch. "Guess the universe decided to cut an old man a break or two." He murmurs. "Hasn't happened too often before, I don't think."

She tugs her hand away just as she starts to feel the pull of her mutation, but rests it on his shoulder instead as she studies him. 'Old man'. Sometimes, when she really looks at him, she can see the years on him. She tilts her head and reaches up to run her fingers through his dark hair. He'd grown it out longer recently but somehow that had only served to make the grey hairs at his temples a little more prominent. There's shallow lines making themselves known in places on his face, too. He is getting old, and the thought that even the big bad Wolverine won't be around forever is enough to make her stomach do summersaults. She blows out a breath. "Ah'm sorry. Don't be worried about meh, okay? Ah'll be fine as long as yahr happy, Sug."

It's a lie and they both know it.

He leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead, but before he can say anything the sound of a ringing phone fills the Danger Room.

He slips his phone out of his pocket and presses the green button, his eyes lighting up. "Joanie."

Rogue turns away and reaches for her water bottle, thinking to give him some privacy but...

"What is it?" He's asking. "Somethin' wrong...? Oh...well what then?"

She's halfway out the door, but time seems to slow. She hears him but only just barely past the sound of her pounding heart.

"Yah're...yah're serious?" His voice. What's that in his voice? "You're...actually serious?"

Rogue's frozen in place. She suddenly has a feeling she's not gonna like this.

"Jesus Christ." He mutters, sounding in awe. "H-how far...? Yah're really sure?"

If Joan Fletcher is telling him, she must be very sure indeed. Rogue can't move. She feels as though she might throw up.

"Well I...I guess I'd better come up there, then. We'll have to...oh. Okay, well, just, ah, tell me how that goes." He stutters through a goodbye and all goes silent.

It's all over now.

"Fuck me." He mutters. "An'..an' there's gonna be three of 'em!"

Rogue's not even sure she can feel her legs, so she doesn't really know how it is they carry her along down the hallway, but before she knows it she's got a bag open and ready to be packed with her essentials.

She doesn't know where shes' going. She just knows she can't stay here.

.

She shouldn't be here. Nope, she really should not. She's asking for trouble. She's asking for trouble so hard it is not even remotely funny. She should leave right now, leave and get back in her car and just keep driving until the Logan in her head...

But this isn't Logan. It's never Logan anymore when the urges hit her. It's just Marie and her own bad temper and impulsive tendencies. Marie and the vices she enjoys. Marie and her own need to say screw it and just do something bad.

It's only ever been Marie. Having Logan in her head was just an excuse, and that's the truth of it.

Her fingers drum the bar. She's nervous, not because she can't win up in the cage currently occupied by a different pair of hotheads, but because this isn't her, she shouldn't be giving into this, this is wrong and she knows it. Her other hand clutches her cellphone; she keeps hoping to feel it vibrate. She wants to look down and see Logan's name splashed across the screen. She wishes for the consolation that he'll notice her absence and think to call and check on her. She wishes desperately for the consolation of the knowledge that he still cares.

But he doesn't call. And that's fair enough. He's got other things on his mind. It's not his fault.

Actually, oddly, it's Jamie's voice that echoes in Marie's head as the night progresses. And that voice isn't scolding, either, because Jamie wouldn't be scolding, would she? She'd be encouraging.

Logan can shove it. You're free, girly! Do what yah want!

She tucks the cellphone away in a pocket of her jacket and doesn't take it out again.

.

Days pass in an utter blur. She's only sober when she first wakes up, and even then only barely. She takes a man back to her hotel room several nights. Not the same man, that is. Just randoms. A different partner each night and she never even asks for a name, doesn't care to.

On the sixth night she fights a man who doesn't take kindly to being beaten. That's ok. Jamie had talked about this being part of it. Marie breaks a bar stool over his head and manages to shut him up but only after half the bar is trashed. There are blue lights approaching and fast by the time she leaves and tears out of the bars parking lot. Thankfully she's not the only one booking it (it's an underground ring after all), and it doesn't appear she's being followed. Her knuckles are white as she clutches the steering wheel, adrenaline has her heart pounding and her ears ringing, she's half drunk and can hardly think straight to start...

And that's when it finally happens.

Logan calls.

If she answers, he'll know right away that she's buzzing hard. If she doesn't, he'll know somethings wrong anyway, because she always answers him.

She hits the green button. "Hey Sug."

"Hey yourself. It's, ah, it's been a few days."

Are those - are those sirens? She might be hearing things. She doesn't see any lights, but she can't afford to..she swerves hard, screeching into a turn down an unfamiliar side street and switching off her lights. "Oh, Ah know, Ah'm sorry Sugah, Ah's just, ah, stealin' a lil' 'me' time is all."

"Look, I'm not blamin' yah, Darlin', an' I'm real sorry. But somethin' serious has just come up. 'Ro wants you back, now."

She did hear sirens. They turn off but the blue lights are there now, distant, and Marie's moving slower without her headlights on. They might not see her yet but they will soon, assuming they don't accidently slam right into her tailgate. Her eyes scan the treeline, frantic, looking for a space between that's big enough...

"Marie? Did yah hear me? I said 'Roro wants you back tonight. Playtimes over, we might need to suit up."

"Suit up. Right." The words don't register. She finds an opening. It's not ideal, there's a bit of a ditch between and getting the car back out past it will be a bitch but at least she'll be... "Sugah, I might just need to call yah back."

"Are you even listenin' to me?" He's angry now. "Jesus, are you drunk? Yah're not drivin' are yah? What the hells gotten into you?"

"No, no, Ah'm not drivin' Sug." Nothing for it. She cuts the wheel hard. The car shoots off over the small ditch, jumping the gap entirely. It lands hard and rolls fast; instinct has her dropping the phone entirely in favor of gripping the wheel as her foot slams the break.

She love taps a very large oak tree. Well, maybe its a bit more than a tap. She hears a crunch.

There's no street lights out here. She can only see because she's looking with eyes that are halfway feral. The cops roll right past her. The blue lights fade slowly away. They hadn't seen her.

Her heart could not possibly beat faster.

Shaking hands reach out slow to open the glove compartment and retreive a cheap cigar and a light. She lights the smoke and takes a long, slow drag, and then swears. Loud.

Logan's still there when she picks the phone back up.

"Marie? Are you ok? What the hell just happened? Answer me, damnnit girl!"

"Ah'm here Sugah! I just - I hit a nasty lil ole pothole is all, phone went flyin'."

"Where've you been? You don't sound right, yah need to come home."

She's only half listening as she gets out of the car. Oh boy. She did a lot more than just tap the thing. The bumper is lying on the ground, one of the headlights is smashed and utterly useless now, and the hood is partially folded up and inward at the corner. Adrenaline had kept her from fully feeling the impact of it but she's starting to feel it now in the form of a nasty headache and a soreness radiating out from her neck and down through her shoulders.

"Marie!" Logan barks, his voice low and growly as ever. "That wasn't a suggestion."

Since when does he get to talk to her like that? "Excuse meh? Listen here, bub," where did that come from? She's not thinking straight, "you might wanna think twice 'fore takin' that tone with meh 'less yah want a certain someone findin' out some of the things Ah know about yah. Ah get the feelin' she may not be as forgivin'."

Silence for a long moment. He huffs a growl but his tone is more respectful when he answers. "Alright. Jus' calm down. We have a situation here. I said we might need to suit up, you understand? 'Ro wants us all here and ready just in case."

Marie scrubs a hand over her face. She gets the picture and would already be on the road headed home under normal circumstances. But the fact is, these aren't normal circumstances, and the X-Men can probably live without her in reality. Besides, the Juniors might be a motley bunch, but Marie has faith enough in the kids, they should be help enough if it's needed.

She sighs. "You know what? Goodnight, Logan."

"Don't hang -"

She hangs up.

...

 _~Twenty-four hours later~_

 _...leave meh a message I guess..._

 _Beep_

Miss Rogue. Uhm. It's Sarah. I don't know...I don't know if you'll ever even bother to listen to this message but please, something's going on. The other X-Men are all missing, Jake and Jamie are still gone, and I just don't know what to do. I need help. I really, really need help.

Please...

 _Click._


	15. A Slippery Slope 1

_Tierney Doran is rethinking every life decision at the moment. She hasn't made very many good ones. Joining up with the crew of hired guns she'd been running with was probably the worst. Stealing that shipping container is pretty high up on the list as well, but in fairness, she didn't know that at the time._

 _The dumbest decision, however, the one that really makes her an idiot, is the fact that she'd impulsively decided to pick pocket the girl who is easily the most dangerous person within a twenty mile radius. Tierney has a pocket full of cash now. God, it is so much cash. It'll be a solid start for her. But she's gotta get away first and she's got a sinking feeling in her gut that she won't make it. And she's right, of course, because Jamie's waiting for her. Jamie's likely to be wise to any and every move Tierney would pull._

 _Jamie's got a look in her eye like she's not about to take any more shit from anyone, least of all Tierney Doran._

"Ok. Take it easy, short stuff."

"You know, this is just sad. You were like a sister, T."

"Still am, I just gotta look after myself for a while is all."

"Yah could've just asked me nicely." Jamie's got a hard look in her eye. A mean, angry, icy hard look. "I might've been able to fix this easier."

"I'm sorry, kid, I really am, but now I just need to go." She tries to slip past the half-pint.

She only makes it half a foot.

Jamie dips down in her signature move, so fast, too fast. T has no time to react; her legs are swept right out from under her. Her head knocks hard against her car, dark spots burst out and scatter across her vision. Pain explodes at the back of her skull, sharp and intense, and before she can get her bearings she's being pulled up by her shirt collar to look the half-pint in her gold-flushed eyes. Two sharp, long claws press themselves her neck, and she's got no room to really even move.

"I can't just let you go."

"This doesn't need to be your problem."

"You got no idea what you've gotten yourself into. I've got orders to make you hurt, Tierney, and I took three bullets for you last night. Shit hurts. We're even as it gets. I'm not stickin' my neck out for you again. Where's my money?"

"Jacket. Inside pocket on your left. Take it. It was a dumb move, I jus' didn't know what else to do. You're right, we're even. Now look, kid -"

Rage manifests itself, contorts Jamie's features. She slams Tierney back against the car, hard. "Quit patronizing me. I look or sound like just a dumb kid to you right now?"

No. No, she does not look like a kid. She looks and sounds like a monster has been created, partly at Tierney's hand, and now T herself is about to pay for it. "You're right. I'm sorry. I won't call yah that anymore."

"Where's the container?"

Tierney gives in and tells her. "But listen. Yah need to take a peek inside the thing before yah hand it off, ok? Promise me you will, there's a reason why I didn't wanna tell them where it is. Somethin' doesn't feel right."

The feral backs off, letting Tierney go in favor of raking a hand through her short brunette waves. "Alright. I'll look. But first..."

"I don't know much about these folks I guess yah're workin' for." Tierney goes on, resigning herself. "But they're a powerful bunch. I assume you've got your reasons."

To spite clearly still being angry, Jamie's looking a little green about the gills. She doesn't want to do what she has to now, that much is certain. "I'm sorry. I'm in hot water as it is."

"I know. I'm no more innocent in all this than you are." She comes up to press a kiss to the younger girls forehead. "Do what you gotta do and we'll call it all just even. Wouldn't be my first busted lip. Just do a girl a favor and don't break anythin'?"

"Deal." Jamie clenches a fist, blows out a breath, and swings.

...

"What the hell, kid? I said go easy on me!"

"Shut up. I just need ta get a good picture. Yah're gonna be fine." Jamie holds up her phone, steady as she can manage, and snaps a few pictures at different angles.

"Fine." Tierney spits blood onto the pavement. "You broke. My face."

"Shut up." Jamie growls again, and hauls the other girl into her car. "Just breathe. I gotta set your nose back in place and then I'll fix yah up."

"Wait now, what're yah-"

Jamie reaches out with lightening reflexes. She's done this a time or two before. The sound of bone scraping against bone is sickening to say the least. But before T can protest any further, Jamie's hard at work. It's not pleasant. The feral can feel her own energy draining slowly away, and T spits curses as the pain grows twice as intense before it gets better.

"There's not even a scar left. An' I feel wired. Wow."

"Yeah, that'll last a while, I'd taken advantage of it while yah can." Jamie stumbles some as she gets to her feet, dizzy.

"You gonna be ok?" T's brows furrow in worry.

Jamie waves her off. "Just..get outta here and try not to die, ok? I'll be fan-freakin'-tastic long as I never have to see you again."

...

Jake doesn't ask questions, bless him. He just calmly gets in the car with her and cranks up the radio.

The drive takes them maybe two hours. They're way out in the middle of nowhere by the time they reach their destination. Jamie sleeps her way through most of it. About twenty minutes had been spent kickin' up dirt down a shabby gravel road; they're disturbingly isolated out here. Jamie doesn't like it and insists he stay with the car; she's got a bad feeling and wants to ensure their only means of escape isn't tampered with. Just in case.

The container is full size, the kind hauled by semi-trucks. It's plain white and would be inconspicuous enough if not for the fact it's been hidden back behind a grove of trees. How did T even get the thing out here, anyway? It's got no lock on it, which is strange, but then again, all of this kind of is.

"Alright, T." Jamie grumbles. "Lets see what you were on about." She opens the door.

It's a lot of heavy equipment of some kind. Jamie doesn't recognize any of it. There's a big glass tank and some kind of control panel with a bunch of temperature gauges, and a contraption that looks like it's missing parts but is far more sinister in nature.

But none of these things are what worry her the most. What really worries her is the large crate that had been chained shut - T had probably torn the chains right apart using her mutant strength, trying to figure out what all the fuss was about.

She opens the lid.

Oh.

It's just a bunch of rock fragments. She picks one up to inspect it. It's nothing special. Looks like space rocks - maybe meteorite pieces, like she'd seen in school text books, one of the few subjects she'd actually been interested in. The crates only half full with them.

There's a notebook of sorts hidden in a pouch under the lid of the box, along with some blueprints. It's all old and tattered. She opens the notebook with care and stares at the scribbles on the pages inside, trying to make sense of it. It's a lot of science-y jargon, and pictures of the machinery that the rest of the freight container is filled with. The sinister multi-armed contraption she'd noted earlier is supposed to be fitted with some sort of needles and...

Oh. Oh, shit.

Her stomach turns, but she isn't given time to dwell on it. The isolated quiet outside the container has just been intruded upon by the sound of helicopter blades slicing through the air. A lot of them.

Ouroboros had been tracking her the whole time. She's hardly surprised.

She slips out of the container quickly and shuts the doors, then books it back to the car, notebook and other papers still in hand. She can't stop them getting their hands on the equipment, but for all she knows they won't have any idea what to do with it without the notebook and the blueprints. That buys her time to figure out what's up.

She hands Jake the stolen evidence. "I need you to do me a favor. When we get back to the hotel I need you to put all this somewhere with your things, and do not tell me exactly where."

He flips through it a bit. "Is this...what the hell is this?"

"Ain't sure yet. But I have an idea and it is not good."

...

"I told you not to test me, Ms. Logan. Where's the notebook?"

"I don't know."

"If I find out you are lying to me, I will not be pleased." Trixie LaBelle's frustration is almost palpable even through the phone.

"Good thing I ain't a liar, then." Jamie answers confidently. She isn't one. She has no idea where Jake put the notebook. She could guess, but that's not the same thing.

Trixie informs her that their target is returning from Washington in just over a week, and then leaves her be.

...

Virginia - Fredricksburg - Ouroboros HQ

~Trixie LaBelle~

"Commander. I wasn't aware that we were expecting you."

"My apologies, Ms. LaBelle, I just happened to be in the area, that's all, I won't take up too much of your time." Commander Sanchez strolls up almost casually, nodding towards the container docked at the shipping bay. "Is this...?"

"Yes, sir. It was all here, just as the old man promised." She clears her throat softly, nervous. "Well, mostly, that is. I do apologize, sir, we did run into some trouble obtaining it."

The Commander waves her off. "Yeah, yeah I know the instructions for its assembly are missin'. Not a situation easily remedied but we do have some awful big brains here to work on it, now don't we?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so, sir."

He turns to study her, hands clasped behind his back now. "You don't sound terribly confident."

She crosses her arms neatly as she takes a moment to choose her words. "I have every confidence in my team here. It will take time but they shall figure out how to piece the machine together. Working the metals into a more pliable state will present a bigger problem, but if they worked out how to do it once one would suppose we could figure it out again with enough diligence."

"Yes, but...?" Sanchez pushes.

"But..sir. The problem remains that our potential subject is not as easily controlled as we had hoped. In fact, I do believe she has proven to be a looser cannon over the past few days than she was when we first managed to recruit her. She's growing ever more confident in her own ablities, presenting more a danger."

"You're beginning to doubt our plan will work, then?"

Trixie sighs. "Frankly? Yes. The carrot we're already dangling in front of her is proving barely enough to keep her on our line as it is. Agreeing to this..I just don't see what more we could offer her. The only other option would be..."

Sanchez scrubs a hand over the stubble just dusting his cheeks and chin. "I'm still listening, Ms. LaBelle."

Trixie shakes her head. "The thing of it is, sir, test results suggest her bone density is greater than ours already. Ms. Logan is remarkable enough on her own, it is possible that none of this is..."

Sanchez holds up a hand. "I commissioned you to zero in on Ms. Logan because Ms. Logan had already proven herself to be dangerous. To be so young and already have a track record of expressly criminal activity, you agreed that we would be doing the world a favor if we could manage to make her ours. Just think of the damage she's already done. The man of ours that she sent to the hospital the other day has yet to wake up."

"Yes, sir. I know, sir." Trixie answers, contrite now as she remembers the damage done that night. "I only wish to point out that we may be devoting quite a lot of time and resources into a procedure that may not fully be necessary."

He sighs, softening a fraction. "You've got heart, Trixie. I appreciate that. But for our purposes we don't just need her 'hard to kill'. We need her 'indestructable'. You see to it that all of this gets sorted out right." He waves a hand at the shipping container. "Let me worry about the rest."

"Yes, sir." Trixie sighs. "In that case would you perhaps consider allowing me to use her as a test subject for compound 52? Testing so far has rendered promising results. If it works..."

Sanchez holds up a hand, waving her off. "Alright, alright. You can try it. But if the results aren't as impressive as I know you're hopin'..."

"Then you'll hear no further arguements from me."

"I sincerely doubt it." He answers, a little playful. "Thats all for now, Ms. LaBelle. I'll get out of your hair."

Commander Sanchez begins strolling back towards the exit at a leisurely pace.

An image flashes in Trixie's mind as she thinks a moment; of the agent that Carol James Logan had sent to the hospital, how fragile he had looked, all beat half to hell with a tube stuck down his throat.

She comes to a decision. "Sanchez. Sir." She catches up with him.

"Yes?"

"She doesn't seem terribly interested in anything more material. Even money seems of comparatively little consequence to her. I would suggest you begin thinking less of what we might have to offer her, and more along the lines of what she might do if, uhm, certain things were...taken away, as it were."

Sanchez contemplates that for a moment. A smirk creeps up to stretch his lips upward. "Ah. Now that's an idea I can work with."

...

~Jamie~

They leave for the mansion immediately. She thinks about going to see her mother and grandfather one last time but doesn't want them to see how amped up she is. They'd worry, and they don't need the stress.

Her mother texts her just as they're about halfway home. Went to the doctors this morning. All is well. Logan knows now, by the way.

Jamie breathes a relieved sigh. Well there's one less thing to worry about, anyway.

...

Jake doesn't bother taking his 'medicine' throughout the trip back. He seems to have simply stopped caring enough. He hasn't been sleeping well and is growing tired and as downright irracible as she can be at times, but she supsects they've just been gone a touch too long. He'll get a hug from his mom and sleep in a more familiar bed and find his zen again soon enough.

Or, so she thinks. The universe apparently has other plans. They're greeted by Sarah, who seems tense and exhausted herself. "Thank God, I thought you guys would be gone forever. We've been trying to call." But her tone isn't biting. It's genuinely relieved. "I'm about to tear my hair out."

Jake and Jamie share a look. He crosses his arms over his barrel chest, scowling. "Where's my mom?"

Sarah rakes a hand through her hair. "She and Dr. McCoy went on a mission few days ago. Iceman and Logan, too. Supposed to be mainly reconnaissance, someone came asking for help with a missing mutant child. But we lost contact."

Jamie's brows furrow. "Where's Rogue?"

A scowl contorts the redheads features. "She ran off days before any of this came up. Won't answer my calls, seems to be a running theme." She sends a glare at Jake.

He brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck. "Sorry. We ran into some trouble of our own, it's been a strange few days."

"Well now I need you both to have your head in the game here." Sarah answers harshly. "Without Rogue the number of teachers left runs up to a lovely grand total of two, and neither are trained as X-men. Which means 'tag'. We're it." She hesitates. "Jake, can you let me talk to Jamie alone for a minute?"

His eyebrows raise in wary surprise. "Yeah. I guess. Just..play nice, ok?" He stalks off.

Jamie waits until he's likely well out of earshot. "Alright, Barbie, I think I know what you're gonna say and -"

Sarah holds up a hand, talking right over the feral. "I'm sorry."

Jamie stops short and just stares, dumbfounded, head tilting in that 'curious puppy' way she and Logan are known for.

The redhead goes on. "I was acting like a spoiled brat. There's..reasons. But there's no excuse. I realize that now. You and Jake and I can talk some more things out later. But right now I need you on my side. I'm not sure I can do this otherwise."

Jamie takes a moment to soak all this in, blowing out a breath. "Alright. Ah. I'm not sure I understand. You want my help?"

"I've never experienced any kind of combat outside of the Danger Room. None of us have. Except, I'm suspecting, you." The redhead studies Jamie a moment, sighing softly. "Which leaves me in desperate need of your advice. We're about to go up against something big enough that it just took Wolverine off the radar. You may not have been around here long enough to realize, but that simply doesn't happen. I don't even know where to start in preparing. We don't even have the jet. Hell, even if we did, I only barely know how to fly the thing. We're stupidly out of our depth."

Hands on her hips now, Jamie turns and begins pacing. Thinking hard. "Details." She said. "You said there was a missing mutant child?"

"Yes. The mother is here but she's..clearly not well. Mentally, that is, the poor thing. Deciphering her babbling is..difficult. But the long and short of it is that she claims some men came and took away her daughter. She's convinced it's because the child's a mutant. She even knew where they took her too, God only knows how. Obviously we were healthily skeptical, which is why the original mission was to just scout out the location she gave us." Sarah crosses her arms, worry overtaking her features. "I'm now convinced something really is going on. Storm sent me a communication warning that they were under fire. Their last known coordinates put them in what should be just a forest, any maps I pull up suggest it's just trees and snow out there."

A thought strikes Jamie. "Doesn't the jet have a tracking device?"

"Yes. Actually, that's the weirdest part. It appears to be neatly landed in a field, and there's nothing to suggest it's been damaged."

"Maybe..maybe they weren't shot down in the end. Maybe they were boarded somehow?" Jamie theorises.

"Maybe. But teleporters usually need to be able to visualize where they're attempting to teleport, lest they end up materializing inside a wall."

"Some kinda mind freakery, then. Can telepaths control minds?"

"Well, sort of yes and no. They can't necessarily override base instinct enough to force someone to walk right off to their death. The human mind is too strong for that in most cases." Sarah's brows are furrowed in concentration as she thinks. "But...it's not out of the question that one might be strong enough to have compelled Storm to land the jet. It would take a frightening strong telepath to manage that, though. Compulsion on that level would suggest a mutant that's probably a class 4. And you don't want to know what else a mutation like that could make someone capable of." Confusion overtakes her features. "But there's only ever been two other known telepaths of that strength, and both..." Something else crosses her face. Some deeper emotion, almost sorrowful. It's erased in the next moment but the redhead hunches in on herself further. "Both have been dead ten years now."

Jamie almost wants to ask...but thinks better of it. Now isn't the time, anyway. "You're certain of that?" She asks, a little gentler.

"That they're both gone, yes." Sarah avoids eye contact. "But I'd suppose there could be a mutant that strong now, our population booms again with each year that passes. It would have to be a younger one, though, to have escaped our original radar. Could be my age, but likely much younger. Ororo's got a pretty impressive network when it comes to getting information, and a telepath that powerful couldn't escape notice for too long. All told, I highly doubt that's what we're up against."

"We can't rule anything out." Jamie asserts. "Even if we find it's just a kid, we might have to shoot first and ask questions later. I know it's not pretty but you should get that into your head now, Summers. If you can't make the right move, I will."

"I know." Sarah answers, subdued but not missing a beat. "The thought terrifies me. But I think something about it is why Storm thinks we'll make a good team."

Jamie thinks on that a minute. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd s'ppose that makes sense."

The girls share a look as a proverbial light bulb goes off.

An understanding is come to.

Jamie nods after a minute. "Alright. So best guess is class 4 telepath is the biggest obstacle. Can you show me on a map where the jets landed?"

Before Sarah can answer, the sound of an approaching vehicle reaches their ears. Loud and rough. A motorcycle?

One of the garages large bay doors opens.

No, it's not a motorcycle. It's a truck. Big, sleek, colored midnight blue. It parks itself succinctly in the nearest space that's big enough and idles a moment. The purr of the engine has Jamie approaching the thing to inspect it further. It's gorgeous.

She and Sarah both trail around to the drivers side just as the thing turns off and the drivers door opens.

"What the hell are y'all gawkin' at meh like that for? Fah heaven's sake." It's Rogue. Looking a little rough, with dark circles beneath eyes rimmed in smudged eyeliner. She's clad all tough in leather and dark denim and her hair is cut short now, her auburn locks barely reaching her chin. A last bit of a cheap cigar rests comfortably between her fingers, trailing smoke into the chilly air that she'd just let in with her.

Jamie wrinkles her nose. "Where the hell have you been, girl? You smell like sex and cheap booze."

"Ha. Pot meet kettle, bub." Anna fires back haughtily.

"Very funny but that doesn't answer my question."

"Fuck you, that's where I've been."

"Hey, you wanna come at me with that tone, we might wanna take this outside." Jamie snaps, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Sarah pinches the bridge of her nose, clearing her throat. "I tried to call."

"If Ah hadn't gotten the message Ah wouldn't be here, peaches." Anna puffs her cigar and discards it flippantly before heading inside, ignoring Jamie entirely. "You two comin' 'r what? We don't got all day."

Sarah and Jamie share a look.

"Is it just me, or does she sound...not herself?" Jamie grumbles, feeling wary now.

"S'not you." Sarah confirms, shaking her head and muttering a curse under her breath. "But we're lucky she's back at all, I suppose. C'mon. Lets get to work."

...

"Ah know where they are." Anna sounds as though she isn't surprised.

Jamie and Sarah exchange a confused look.

"Where?" Jake voices the obvious question.

"Round about where Ah'm guessin' yah just came from, oddly enough."

Jamie shoves Anna aside to get a look at the map herself. Sure enough, the coordinates of the sight where the jet landed is, indeed, not too terribly far from where she'd grown up as a child. "Oh."

"Fabulous. Any ideas on how to get us up there, then?" Sarah questions. "Because we needed to be there probably like, days ago."

One of the other Junior X-Men steps forward, a tall girl with darker skin and an assortment of feathers and flowers decorating her raven-black hair. "I might be able to help. My father has a plane, a private jet. He knows all about us here, he'd be excited to be able to help. It's just small, though, and we'd only be able to get so close."

"Ok, that's a start. If we could find some place to hit the ground around this little town here, do you think we could hike it up the mountain?" Sarah directs the question at Jamie.

Jamie shrugs. "Fifty-fifty chance this time of year, there'll be snow the further up we go, likely a lot of it. We'd have to gear up good. Looks like the jets location is pretty far up there. Ah. I don't suppose any of you has ever gone hiking like this before? Up in the mountains somewhere, I mean."

Jake and the other two Juniors exchange looks, shaking their heads.

Sarah heaves a tired sigh. "How much experience do you have?"

Jamie rakes a hand through her hair. "My grandfather and I used to go on hunting trips pretty regularly." She hesitates.

The redheads supposed to be their 'fearless leader'. But she looks tired and there's a pleading quality to the look she sends Jamie. "Can you get us up there or not?"

"Yeah." Jamie answers, and shocks herself with how commanding and confident her tone is. There's no hesitation. She actually knows what to do. "Yeah, if you're willin' to let me take point, I can get us up there. It won't be pretty, though. I doubt any of you has dealt with this kinda cold before."

"Storm had all sorts of gear ready made for us in good faith. I'll show you where it us and then leave it up to you to get us prepped for the hike."

"Got it."

"Ms. Rogue -"

"Fah heaven's sake, Ah know yah did not just call meh miss while plannin' yah first rescue mission." Anna plants a hand on her hip.

Jamie snorts.

A blush creeps up to color Sarah's cheeks, but to her credit she doesn't miss a beat. "Rogue, what more can you tell us about what we'll be walking into?"

"Concrete. A lot of it. The place is a fortress. Also, missile launchers and a lot of bullets if yah aren't carefull. But Ah think there should be an openin' right around this area here. Now, yah'll have to really be lookin'..."

...

"We'll need someone who's used to actually dealing with hostiles."

"Jamie's got yah there."

"...and someone to fly the jet back just in case...?"

"You can fly it just fine, Ah've sat next to yah while yah done it."

Sarah sends a look at Jamie, questioning. Jamie just shrugs. The redhead goes on. "And you'll have to head us up if we manage to get inside the facility." She finishes.

"Ah drew out what Ah remembered of the labyrinth already." Rogue counters. "Ah'm not goin' with yah."

Sarah's brows furrow. Her mouth opens, but no sound makes it past.

Jamie scowls. "Why the hell wouldn't yah come with us?"

Rogue crosses her arms. The look on her face almost reminds Jamie of a Logan look, the one he gives her when she really needs to stop and think for a minute. "Somethin' just wiped out damn near all of the X-men in one go, includin' Wolverine, and you wanna leave the school guarded by nothin' but the only two teachers who aren't even half-assed trained for some kinda combat?"

Sarah looks appropriately chastised.

Jamie huffs. "There's no evidence to suggest..."

"Sure there ain't evidence to suggest it, we don't have evidence of anythin'. All we know is that our most senior kick-asses straight up disappeared on us days ago and y'all are now wastin' time, which is precious. So here's what's actually gonna happen. I called for backup and thankfully heard from a few friends that were close. They're gonna come man the fort with meh just in case, should be almost here by the time y'all leave. You, Sarah Jean Summers, are gonna go get this done, and you," Anna points at Jamie, her gaze suddenly intense, "you, Jamie Logan, are gonna play nice like a big girl and help because that's the only way y'all are gonna get through this. Is that clear?"

Sarah and Jamie exchange a look. Neither likes the situation, but they can't really argue either, because Rogue's absolutely right.

Anna softens after a moment. "If Ah didn't trust yah two to take care of business, Ah'd leave one of yah here and lead the other kids in myself, but the fact is we'd be worse off that way. Ah know it ain't fair but there's no in between here, yah guys have to be ready and yah have to be ready now."

Frustration breaks through the fragile mask of calms Sarah's been sporting. Her fist connects with the table, abrupt and brutal. "Dammit but I'm not. I'm not ready, we are no where near ready!"

Jamie blows out a breath. She can smell it. The redhead reeks of fear and panic and Jamie doesn't blame her but the weird thing is that Jamie herself feels no panic at all. In fact, she's not sure there's even any real fear there. All she knows is the only thing she needs to know: a lot of very important people are missing and clearly in danger. Worse than that, Logan is among them, and since he's the father of her sibling-to-be... "I'm not the only one that's seen shit hit the fan a bit outside of the Danger Room." She points out, calm and confident. "Jake's been tested too now, and he held up pretty well considering. We're goin' in a little too blind for my taste overall but things could be worse."

Sarah doesn't seem to take that as too much consolation, but it's the best Jamie has to offer.

Anna dismisses the redhead, and faces Jamie with a hard look. "Here's the thing, Sugah. There's a little somethin' Ah left out about this - this installation or whatever yah wanna call it."

Jamie raises a bemused eyebrow. "I'm...listenin', I guess."

"It was almost military in nature. Uncannily military, enough so that Logan and I thought it had to be government run somehow but Jamie-girl..." She hesitates.

"Aww c'mon, just spit it out." The feral snaps, impatient.

Anna rolls her eyes. "The symbol on their uniforms - and on literally everythin' else - was a snake eatin it's own tail. So maybe, yah just might wanna make a phone call or two before stormin' the place like y'all're about to. There. Ah said it."

Silence. Jamie has to process this one. It takes a moment.

Anna huffs a growl. "Hello? Phone call? Yah don't got all day, kid."

Jamie stalks forward a few paces and reaches around to Anna's back pocket, removing the small bottle of cheap whiskey she'd noted in there earlier. The older girl scowls as the feral pops the bottle and slugs it's contents. Jamie growls in return, challenging. "I don't know who you suddenly think you are, but the only one who talks to me with that tone is Logan, and that's 'cause he can easily kick my ass."

"So could Ah if Ah thought it was needed." Anna answers, hauty now. "Ah just spent a couple days takin' a page outta yahr book, matter of fact!"

"Takin' a page outta my..." Jamie suddenly does not at all like where this is going. "Anna, which page exactly are we talkin' about here?"

The older girl seems to sense the change in Jamie's tone well enough. "Well Ah... Ah felt like jus'..lettin' my hair down, Ah s'ppose, and Ah figured, Ah got enough of Logan still swimmin' around up in this little head o' mine, and if you could be queen of the cage like you were..."

"You went off on your own lookin' for that kinda trouble!"

"Yeah. Jus' for a few days."

"No but, completely on your own."

"Yeah."

Jamie walks a slow circle around Anna, inspecting the older girl. "An' yahr still in one complete piece." Her tone one of utter amazement now.

"Ah. It sure appears that way, don't it? What's the matter, Sug, Ah though yah'd be all for it!"

"Oh don't get me wrong. You've got probably the biggest pair of lady balls I think I've ever come across and that is sayin' something. I mean, really. How many times yah lose?"

"A few. Got a few good bruises hangin' around, too, ain't gonna lie, took me a few days to find my footin'."

"Hell, you should've been KO'd so hard after one go, it should've put yah off the whole thing all together. I mean, it's one thing workin' the kinda hand-to-hand where there's more than one guy after yah but you've also got more space to work with, and yahr used to workin' with a team besides, so I'm impressed, girly, really. I mean, damn."

Anna beams with pride. "Now that's a compliment!"

"Yeah, it is. Now I need yah to promise me somethin'. An' I mean, I need yah to promise and mean it, understand?"

Confusion overtakes the older girls features now. "Well, yeah, Ah guess, but what -"

Jamie's tone lowers, goes gruff and hard. "Do not ever do that again. An' especially not alone, for shits sake."

"Oh. Ah don't understand, though, what're yah...?"

"I once fought a guy that turned out to be as bag-of-cats crazy as they come. He didn't like bein' beat by a girl, 'specially since I'm just a half pint, so he came back another night with rat poison and paid off the new bartender to spike my drink with it. I would've died, Anna. The only reason I walked away was because I'm a freak of nature even by mutant standards and all the poison did was make me dizzy and give me a belly ache. I later looked up what it should have done to my insides, you wanna know what I found out?"

Anna's eyes have gone wide as dinner plates. "Well. No. No, Ah think..Ah think Ah get the picture."

"I sure as hell hope you do get it, because that's not the only time weird stuff went down up there, and about eight times out of ten it was entirely concernin' me." Jamie plows on bluntly. "Pulling stunts like I used to is the kinda stuff that I only just got away with, and only because I heal like I do and I got friends up there. I don't know what else yah been up to, I don't know what else yah been on, but this is too far. No more cages. Promise me, please."

Much more subdued now, Anna blows out a breath. "When yah put it the way yah just did...yah're right. No more cages. I promise."

Jamie softens some again. "Good. And seriously, comin' from someone who actually cares, try to sort yahrself out. Wanderin' around half in the bottle lookin' for a fight is no way for someone nice as you to be tryin' to live." She pockets the cheap whiskey she'd stolen earlier and stalks off to make some calls. They've wasted enough time now.

"Hey." Anna calls out, quiet now and almost sorrowful. "Hey, yah know, Logan says the same kinda thing yah just did an' Ah just don't get it. What makes it not ok for me to wander around like that but no one bats an eye when he does, do they? They just - accept it. Like they're startin' to with you. It ain't right."

The question catches Jamie off guard. "Well that's... just, different I guess." She stutters. "Yah know what happens when I lose my temper. There's some other things I haven't told -"

"Ah know yah well enough and Ah know that yah are not an animal, Carol James Logan." Anna answers, so firm of a sudden. "Don't let them turn yah into one."

Something about the statement sends a chill down Jamie's spine. She pulls the whiskey back out to slug some as her legs carry her away and she forces her thoughts to focus on other things.

...

"I'm...I'm sorry, Miss Logan. Truly. This particular situation is a touch more complicated than what you were imagining."

Jamie huffs a growl and puts the phone on speaker, setting it down on the railing of the porch so she can take another hit from the bottle she'd pilfered from Anna. "Explain."

"We've little if any control over the operations seen to up there. There are higher powers at work. If it were on American soil, perhaps I could work some magic. But it is not."

"You're..you're tellin' me there's a whole different branch?"

"Yes. And I have no real pull over it, nor does my direct superior past a point." There's a slight pause. Trixie sighs. "But. I..may be able to provide some intelligence, at the very least."

Jamie's shoulders sag. She brings the bottle of whiskey to her lips and downs whats left in one go. "Alright. Name your damn price."

...

Some few hours later.

"I thought you said no one would..." Sarah eyes up the cowboy stepping down out of a large red pickup truck.

"I did." Jamie smirks, feeling rather proud of herself. "And then I thought to phone a friend. Hey Kelly!"

Kelly strolls up, removing his wide-brimmed hat to hold it over his chest as he greets the girls. "Jamie-girl, I'd swear yah look prettier every time I see yah."

"Aww, quit lyin'. Dork." She plants a kiss on his cheek (ignoring Jake as he huffs a bit at the sight). "You sure about this?"

"Hey, if you say it's important, yah know I've got yah. I stopped and bought some sandbags for the truck, it should handle well enough."

"We don't need yah to take us very far, we're plenty prepared for a hike."

"Lets load 'er up, then." He wanders past the two girls and over to meet the others.

Sarah eyes him up as he goes, seeming hesitant.

"What?" Jamie prods.

"Nothing." The redhead frowns. "It's just, I would've expected any friend of yours to be a little less..."

"Well. In fairness we were a bit more 'n just friends, actually. I was his first." Jamie points out, smirking suggestively.

"His -" Sarah scowls. "Please, don't go on."

"His first girlfriend that is." Jamie adds, amused. "Don't tell me yahr jealous, Summers."

The redhead snorts. "You wish. I'm just sorry for him. He seems like a nice enough guy, I'm sure he could've done better than you, Cavewoman."

Jamie raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Better me than some plastic little Barbie doll with a stick stuck so far up 'er -"

"Ladies!" Kelly jogs back over. "If we're gonna do this, it needs to be now. Jamie, you know well as I do that you don't wanna be out there in the cold for long now the suns gettin' low. It'll be well below freezing and the wind'll do yah in real quick." His brows furrow as he takes note of the way Jamie and Sarah are sizing eachother up. "Ah. I miss somethin' here, or what?"

Though it looks almost painful, Sarah turns away first. "No. My apologies, you're right, we should get going." She sashays past Kelly and towards his truck.

"I know that look, Jamie-girl." Kelly's tone is scolding. "Yahr not startin' fights again, are yah now?"

"Hey, if yah knew her yah'd know she's askin' for it! Though to be fair, I don't blame her for bein' jealous. Yah're just so..." She raises a suggestive eyebrow. "Whew."

A blush creeps up to color his cheeks. "Oh. That's what you're...ah. Heh. C'mon, lets just get at 'er, darlin'."

She can't help the smirk that remains on her lips.

Jake scowls as she comes up to sit next to him in the bed of the truck. "The entire Senior team is missing, not to mention the fact that I'm right here, and your over flirtin' it up with - I mean, what the hells gotten into you?"

Jamie doesn't know, and an apology is what should make it past her lips but something meaner inside her rears its ugly head for a strange minute. "Hey, take a chill pill, I was just teasin' him, he's kinda an old friend."

"I ain't stupid, Jamie , you were eyeing him up the same way a starvin' wolf would a goddamn ribeye." He's talking kinda...

Since when does he talk like that?

The other girl they're sat in back with - Sparrow, the girl with the feathers in her hair whose father had flown them up - glances at them, clearly growing uncomfortable.

Jamie scowls, voice low and gruff now. "Lets maybe don't do this now, McCoy. Christ."

He huffs at her but says nothing more.

.

"This is what you were looking for?" Kelly seems incredulous, appropriately so.

Sarah hustles over, running her hand along a certain area on the belly of the jet. It takes a moment but she finds what she's looking, pressing her hand flat against a certain panel. it lights up, scanning her handprint, and then popping open to reveal a small control panel. She taps a few buttons, and the jets back end opens wide. Jamie and Jake climb in, looking around, while the others keep watch at the only area that resembles an entrance to the clearing in the forest.

Kelly peers inside, eyes wide.

Sarah glances at him, hard and suspicous now.

Jamie waves her off. "We can trust him. I wouldn't've called him if we couldn't."

Sarah may not fully trust Jamie under normal circumstances, but there's an unspoken understanding there that they've all got just the one thing in common - no ones gonna do anything to jeoperdize the school or the other people protecting it. If Jamie says Kelly's trustworthy, it's safe to assume he is.

The redhead shrugs, and leaves the rancher to be curious.

"You know, we've all seen somewhere, read about the X-men, but it all seemed so - distant. I never gave it any thought. But this is..." He trails off, clearly in awe.

Jamie sniffs around. "I'm not catchin' any foreign scents."

"No blood or anything, no signs of a struggle either. Everythings where it should be." Jake points out.

Sarah sits herself in the pilots seat and looks over the control panel. "Fuel tanks solidly half full and the engines appear to be functioning at maximum capacity, there's nothing to suggest they didn't land willingly." She pauses, brows furrowed. "Maybe they thought they could storm the place themselves?"

Jake shakes his head. "Mom would never be that impulsive and yah know it."

"Which only leaves one other option." Jamie adds. "Telepath. Right?"

Sarah sighs. "I don't see how anything else could make sense but it doesn't matter anyway. We need to keep moving."

"I can take yah further up the road a ways." Kelly offers. "Who knows, I could be useful."

Sarah shakes her head. "No. I don't even know what we're actually walking into, and this isn't your fight besides."

"Fair 'nough. I'll get outta yahr way then."

Jamie strides over to plant a parting kiss on his cheek. "Thanks again. I owe yah."

Jake huffs a growl. She ignores him.

Kelly drives off and they get moving.


	16. A Slippery Slope 2

The temperature plummets and the snow deepens as they trudge further up the mountain. Jamie's mutation has always seemed to grant her some strange ability to withstand just such conditions with relative ease, and Jake's thick coat of blue fluff keeps him well insulated. The others, however, clearly aren't doing so well.

"I thought..this gear..was supposed to help." Sarah stutters. Her shivers have grown downright violent; her thin frame seems to be particularly ill-suited to the cold.

The thick winter coats that Storm had purchased for them are, in fact, 'helping'; without one Sarah would be frozen half to literal death by now. Jamie refrains from saying so out loud. "Cold soaks into your bones no matter what when there's this much snow to trudge through. Nothin' for it after a point."

"You really used to..to go hunting up here? How could you stand it?" Sarah questions in response, sounding just curious. "Or is your mutation like...I mean, you do feel the cold, right?"

Jamie shrugs. "I do..sort of. Mean, I'd freeze out here eventually same as you, sure, but I don't know that it would..." Kill me. Jamie doesn't wanna think on that too hard. "Ah. But the cold never bothered me like it should, I've always figured its gotta be part of my mutation. Come to think of it, Logan mentioned once that he's the same way. Anyway, my grandfather was always prepared. Heater for the tent and things like that. Grandma never cared what money he spent long as he stayed outta her hair."

There's another pause. She's quieter when she goes on. "You know that's gotta be kinda weird. I mean there are others out there with technical invincibility but it's usually those who are altered in a lab or..or something. And even then it's usually only technical. If they..do get hurt somehow, they're just hurt. They have to..to just wait it out like the rest of us until they're better. But you...there's got to be a lot of different people out there who'd love to..to get there hands on..." She trails off, glancing at Jamie uncomfortably.

"Weird?" The feral raises an eyebrow. "That's what you got to say? It's 'weird'."

"Yeah. Just weird."

"Huh. Most people think it sounds awesome. Never get sick 'r anythin', break an arm and it's all better in no time flat."

"But you feel the pain still."

"Yeah. There's that."

"Seems like a funny sort of gift to get given." Sarah says, gentler now.

"Gift? To call it that, now there's a joke." Jamie snorts. "Then again, I guess I can't blame you. You can turn your gift off if you want."

Another moment of silence.

"Perhaps you're right. I never thought of..of it like that before."

Jamie just shakes her head.

They keep trudging on.

.

"How do you do that, Russel? I doubt the cameras even picked you up." Jake marvels.

Russel - rounding out their motley crew with what basically works out to be super speed - shrugs his shoulders, a light blush creeping up to color his cheeks. "They might've. Snow makes things harder."

"How did you know this door was here?" Sarah burst, sudden and forceful as she glowers at Jamie.

"Who says I knew?" Jamie grunts, setting the last of three guards so his backs against a large old tree.

The girls step back as the ground beneath rumbles a bit. A short ways behind them, Sparrow - their resident plant-master - lifts her hands as her eyes glaze over white. The roots of the tree dance up out of the snow and snake around it's trunk and the three guards sat against it, tying them up there.

Sarah turns back to the door in question. "I say you knew, because there's a reason there's only three people guarding it. This place is a concrete fortress and you said it yourself, the terrain up here is a little rocky for anyone to be trying to camp out, no ones finding this entrance just by chance. So how did you know?"

Jamie could lie. But she can't be bothered. "Called in a favor, that's all. Now are we ready, or not?"

Jake comes up alongside Jamie, rolling his shoulders a bit. "You and I were born ready."

"I'm almost looking forward to a fight as long as we're out of this cold." Sparrow adds, hugging herself.

Sarah huffs, but puts her visor on. "Alright. Lets move."

...

~Sarah~

Whispers. She hears them the moment they slip in through the door she'd just blasted open. She can't fully make out what they're saying but she definitely... "You hear that?" She murmurs.

A short ways ahead of her, Jamie halts them all for a brief moment, head titling in a way that suggests she's listening close. Her brows furrow. "I don't hear anything."

"You don't hear the whispers? No voices?" Sarah insists.

"No, I mean I don't hear anything." The feral answers. "There should be guards in here. Or maintenance guys, yah know, cleanin' up or somethin'. Right? Jake, you hear anythin'?"

He shakes his head. "But this place seems huge. Maybe just this part isn't occupied?"

"Could be." Jamie answers, but she's got a stance she takes - her hackles are raised.

Sarah deliberates, looking around. The halls are dimly lit and she can't see very well, but the whispers... "C'mon. I think I might know which way to go." She darts forward ahead of the rest and sweeps off around a corner to their left.

"Anyone else getting horror movie vibes off this joint?" Russel grumbles as the group follows.

"Yeah, try the minute I saw the outside of it." Sparrow fires back. "This is starting to seem like a bad idea. Do we really know what we're doing?"

Sarah glances back but her belly feels like it's twisting itself into a knot. She can''t think of a thing to say.

"Little late to turn back now." Jamie answers instead, gruff. "Summers seems to know where to go, just watch yahr step and keep quiet, will yah?"

Sarah makes a mental note to thank the feral later. They keep moving. The whispers grow louder, become more distinct. There are many and some are downright malicious. But the one that tells the redhead to take a right, then another left...somethings different about this one.

It's clearly the voice of a child, for starters.

"You see those?" Jake points it out. "On the ceiling, aren't those cameras? There's so many, they must've seen us by now."

"Oh, they've seen us." Jamie responds, but doesn't elaborate.

Sarah has a feeling she knows what the feral is thinking. They've seen us and are just watching. They know they can annihalate us, they just want to know what we're here for first. She keeps moving. The voices are loud and clear now, but the little girls voice, it keeps her attention above the rest somehow. The child sounds frightened and tired but hopeful.

There's a different presence too now. Something else, something... cold. And clearly, very malicious, but it seems startled. It wasn't expecting Sarah to be able to probe it back.

Hell, Sarah doesn't even know how she's doing what she's doing right now. Telepathy was never part of her powers.

"Hey Summers, hold up. I got a feelin' about somethin'." Jamie murmurs.

"What is it?"

The feral stalks over to a door that has every appearance of leading to an office of some kind - the word 'professor' is written out on a clouded glass window, though the name beside it has been scraped off. Jamie tries the handle but it's locked. Sighing, she glances up and down the hallway, but it's clear they're quite alone. Shrugging, she brings up a fist and sends it sailling through the window, not even halfway hesitant.

"Are you insane." Sparrow hisses.

Jamie shrugs again, shaking her hand out, wincing just a bit. The glass dislodges itself from her skin and the wounds are healed in moments. "Whatever works." She peers into the room.

"Anything that could prove useful?" Sarah asks.

Jamie huffs a low growl. "Nope. It's been cleared out. Rooms empty. Not even a desk."

"Empty?"

"How much you wanna bet they're all empty?" Jake points out. "Whoever ran this place is long gone, we're on a wild goose chase."

"No." Sarah answers. "No, there's people here."

"How could you possible know that?" Jake sounds exasperated. "This place is clearly abandoned."

"I...I can hear them. In my head, I don't know how, but I can hear them. And anyway, I mean, why would there have been gaurds outside? Why does it still have electricity?"

"She does have a point there." Russel pipes up.

"Which way do we go then?" Jamie asks.

Sarah takes a deep breath and begins leading them onward again.

.

 _They're watchin'. Let meh..._ The little girls voice. It talks continuously, keeps Sarah focused. The redhead wonders how old the child is. It's difficult to tell. She's very well spoken, and there's an accent behind the words, Southern, like Rogue's but even thicker and more polished somehow. _Head to the left. There's guards that way, yah gonna have to fight._

"There's guards up ahead." Sarah says out loud.

"But I don't hear..." Jamie stops short, brows furrowing. She grimaces as though in pain. "Wait. Wait a minute, that wasn't there before. She's right. There is someone up ahead."

 _Ah can't hold it back fahever._

"Hold what back?" Sarah says aloud, not realizing...

Jamie ignores her and presses forward, urging the others to follow. Sarah trails along. She can hear voices now too. They've got another corner to round up ahead. She stalks forward with a hand held up to her visor, her power switched on and ready. Only a few steps ahead of her, Jamie peers around the corner, her claws already extended.

A moment passes. Jamie glances back and as her claws slide back in, eyebrows raised. " There's about six of 'em, guardin' a door. Five of 'em men, big boys too. Looks like just the way we need to go. I got an idea. You trust me?"

Sarah just shrugs. They've got little to lose at this point.

Jamie unzips her snow gear and slips out of it, stripping down until the only thing she's wearing up top is a plain white tank top. Then, without an ounce of hesitation, she slips around the corner and stalks down the hallway, hips swaying.

"Hey there boys." She calls out, voice low and downright sultry. "S'a cold one outside now, isn't it? I jus' can't seem to shake the chill."

The men (and woman) all reach for what appears to be taser guns at their hips, though some do appear to be more heavily armed. They're clearly confused. "Hey. You stay back."

"Awww, but see, I think we can come to an understandin'. Mean, I don't know about yah, now, but I sure could use some warmin' up." She sashays forward a few more paces and reaches down, pulling up on her tank top. She wears no bra beneath. The mens eyebrows shoot up as they stare with abandon, drinking in what the tiny feral has to offer, and the one woman just seems confused.

Peering over Sarah's shoulder to watch, Jake just manages to stifle a laugh. "Hah! That's my girl!"

Sarah huffs. "Russel." She spits. "You first. Now."

"Yes, ma'am." He darts off.

.

~Jamie~

The guards really don't see Russel coming this time. He snatches a taser out of one their belts, hitting one over the head with it and then using it to stun another. Sarah slips out next and uses her telekenesis, throwing back the first guard to recover his senses. Jake leaps out to fully clobber another guard before he can stun Sarah.

Jamie sends her claws sailing through another guards arm, and then his belly, and then stumbles back, startled by the blood that splatters across her tank top. She'd made the moves without thinking. Hearing a familiar growl, she looks over just in time to watch as Jake brings one big blue paw up to slash his own claws across his opponents belly, downright vicious. He looks almost proud of himself, too.

Her belly is doing flip flops.

One guard remains, a woman with short black hair and a mean look in her eyes. With everyone else distracted, she creeps up on Sarah, pulling a small hand gun out from it's holster at her hip. Her intent is unclear - she may mean to take the redhead hostage - but it doesn't matter. A knife sails through the air, small but sharp. It whistles right past Sarah's ear, and lands solidly in her attackers arm. Another follows quickly, this time hitting the guards shoulder, a little too close to her heart for comfort.

The dark haired woman drops the gun and snatches up the key card around her neck as she throws her good arm up in surrender. "Fine, you win, I surrender, here! Jesus, who are you people?"

Sarah snatches the key card out of the woman's hand.

Sparrow strolls calmly along down the hallway, slipping her last throwing knife back away where she'd had them all hidden.

Jamie watches her, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Sparrow offers a mischievous smile in return. "Makes for a fun hobby believe it or not."

Two large metal doors open as Sarah swipes the key card over the pad next to the door, and they all dart through.

"Well, well. You know, Ms. Logan, I'm beginning to think you're a bit more trouble than you're worth."

Jamie would've half expected it to be Trixie LaBelle waiting for her. That would've seemed the most fitting when looking at the bigger picture. But it's not Trixie LaBelle. In fact, this woman seems to be a new player entirely.

She's only maybe a few inches taller than Jamie and shouldn't be terribly imposing even besides, but something about her is almost ethereal. She strolls across the room so gracefully she might as well be floating, and the look on her face isn't one of anger. If anything, she appears simply curious as her eyes fix on Jamie and Jamie alone.

Wildthing races to the surface, not fooled for a moment. She can feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. This woman is... all wrong somehow. Wrong wrong wrong.

"Allow me to introduce myself, I'm quite certain you'll never have heard of me before, I tend to try and stay out of the spotlight these days." Her voice is high and chiming, like church bells. "My name is...well. They just call me M, I think."

Wildthing's fists clench as the strange woman comes closer. "What is this place?" She barks. "Where are the X-Men?"

"Here, close. Safe and sound. We knew you would come for them. I needed only to be sure this facility was cleared out before you arrived. Couldn't have you sticking your pretty little noses into anything that isn't your business, now, could we? What they came here for, however..tsk tsk. I'm terribly sorry but the child is off limits, I'm afraid."

Wrong wrong wrong.

Wildthing looks around, trying to figure out what... oh.

There's only two other guards stood at attention behind M, but they don't seem terribly tense. That's probably because the rest of the rooms occupants are now frozen in place. Sarah and the rest of the Junior X-Men are all frozen mid stride, poised as though ready to attack but not actually moving.

Jamie's claws shoot out and Wildthing takes further control. "What've you done to them!"

"There's no harm done dear, I promise. I just wanted to get a look at you. Mmmm." She trails a slow circle around the feral. "Trixie was right. You don't look like much. Oh, but then, one could argue that I don't either." Without warning or hestation, she reaches out quick and graceful to snatch up Jamie's hand. Her fingers slide along one of the long, sharp spikes of bone protruding from the knuckles as she inspects it. "Tell me, is it true they can cut through metal?"

Jamie gives a nod, shakier now. "Some, yes."

"Oooh, how very fun! May I have a demonstration?" She glances over at one of her guards, snapping her fingers. He comes forward with no hesitation. "I have been meaning to test out this new armor they made for my lovely boys, you know. He's well trained in combat, I'm sure the fight would be enjoyable for you, I'm told you like a challenge."

"Look." Jamie eyes the guard up, not liking the blank look in his eyes. "I just want our friends. Ok? If - if you're gonna let us have 'em than let us have 'em and we'll all be outta yahr hair."

M crosses her arms and huffs, lightly petulant. "Oh, you're all such spoil sports. Very well then. Do whatever you must for now. I'll have you eventually." She waves a hand. Jamie turns just in time to see Sarah and the rest of the Junior X-Men come back to life, gasping, clearly startled.

"What happened?" Sarah stutters, forceful. "What did you do to us!"

"Oh, hush, child. I could've done far worse."

"Where're are the X-Men?" Jake stalks forward, teeth bared in a snarl. "What game are you playin' at lady?"

"Jake, don't." Jamie takes his arm, trying to hold him back.

He tears his arm away, forceful, stalking towards M, poised to attack. He only makes it maybe halfway to her, though. One of her guard comes forward without an ounce of hesitation, drawing a pistol from its holster at his leg. Jake sees the thing but claws forward with reckless abandoned.

Jamie barks at him incoherently, begging him not to do what he's about to, but it's too late. He lashes out just twice, quick and precise - he means to do it. The gun in the guards hand drops as his hand trails up to his neck, and he collapses, soon to move no more.

Things happen so rapidly from there, Jamie never has time to react. A shot rings out, M's second bodyguard reacting on impulse. Jake staggers back, a hand held to his left shoulder, eyes wide in utter shock. Sarah's hand is at her visor again in moments; she sends out two quick blasts, one to take care of the armed guard that's still standing, the second to take out M herself.

Only one set of beams hits home.

Jamie wonders, idly, somewhere in her frazzled mind, why the bodyguards were even necessary. M appears to be protected by a forcefeild of some kind. Because of course that's a thing.

Ms' eyes narrow, glaring at Sarah. "You know not who you're dealing with, so I will be merciful in my punishment." She waves her hand again.

Sarah falls to her knees in an instant, tearing her visor off in favor of holding her hands to her head, clearly in pain. The visor slides across the floor to land at Jamie's feet; she stares down at it as her mind seems to lose whatever capacity it had left for thought.

She doesn't feel right. Why is the room spinning? Her vision goes fuzzy.

The floor rumbles. There's a sound as though the very foundations of the place are splitting right apart, and then she heras voices off in the distance somewhere, men shouting. Jake staggers to his feet, hurt but able to keep moving.

"Sarah? Sarah what happened? What's wrong?"

"I can't." She stutters. "I can't turn it, I can't turn it off."

Jamie's head is pounding and her hands shake, but she manages to work through the fog enough to stoop down and retreive the redheads eyepiece. Stumbling a bit, she reaches down to take Sarah's hand, placing the visor in it. "Here."

There's a crevasse splitting the middle of the room now, thin and jagged. Sarah had opened her eyes, not realizing her powers were still active. That must've been the rumble Jamie felt a moment ago.

The redhead puts her eyepiece on and gets to her feet. A tear slips down her cheek from beneath it. She's smells of fear.

"Jamie, who was that?" Jake. Tired exasperation colors his words. "What did she tell you?"

The pain in Jamie's head subsides some, but she feels sick to her stomach, shaky. "I don't..remember." She really doesn't. The conversation is just...gone.

"Come on." Sarah says, trying for commanding. "We've still got a mission to complete."

Some few rooms away, a metal door with hydraulic locks stands strong and shining, dominating most of one large wall. Sarah, shaken though she is, manages to keep enough control to slice through it using her powers.

And sure enough, there they are. Logan, Dr. McCoy, Iceman and...

Oh no.

...

"I have to go look for my Mom, she has to be here somewhere -"

"There's no way we're going back in there, we've only just made it out, those men have guns!"

"I'm not asking you to go, Jamie can help me -"

"Yeah, nice try bud. Jamie is going to do what Sarah thinks is best," the feral herself cuts in, "because Sarah's the boss lady."

"And besides, you've been shot!" Sarah resumes.

"Jamie can heal me and you know she and I could tear through those goons like they're nothin'!"

Sarah's fists clench. Anger radiates off of her in waves. Her voice lowers and becomes a clear command. "You run off with her for an entire month only to come back here talking like some kinda - some kinda -"

"Like a backwoods, cage fighting thug." Jamie finishes for her, a little more subdued, maybe even apologetic on a level.

Sarah falters a bit at this but only for a moment. "Like that!" She barrels on. "And then you get yourself shot, and then, and then you think you're gonna go off half-cocked like this? Even the Cavewoman knows better than to try something that dumb!"

"...I have ears, yah know, Barbie." Jamie grumbles.

Sarah rolls her eyes and points back towards the woods, where the others have limped out of sight. (Iceman and Dr. McCoy had been involved in some kind of altercation with their captors and are wounded, while Logan had been outfitted with a device that was rendering him temporarily mutation-less.) "They need our help getting out of here, and how well do you think I'll be concentrating if you're up here trying to get yourself killed? I need you and Jamie, it's dark and there's just as much danger out there in the woods as there is here now."

Jamie huffs a frustrated growl and reaches out to take his hand, closing her eyes. Jake hisses in pain, but the wound is surprisingly superficial. She heals it with relative ease. "I hear men heading our way, we need to move fast."

"I can't leave without her." Jake says, shakier now.

"It won't matter anyway if they catch the rest of us too." Sarah snaps back.

A growl tears past his lips. But he lumbers off into the woods. The girls wince as he lets his anger out on a tree; his fist connects hard enough that a bit of bark splinters off.

"You should go, now. Jake can sniff out and take down anything dangerous out there." Jamie tells Sarah. He'll likely be far bigger and more threatening than anything aggressive, unless there's a bear around somewhere...but they'll just have to cross that bridge if they come to it.

"Wait, what are you going to do? I thought you said..."

"I'm gonna see if I can hold these guys off. I just needed Jake to go cause he ain't thinkin' right."

"Alone? You're gonna face down a troop of assault rifles alone?"

"You got a better idea?"

Sarah shakes her head. "No. Damn you. Fine. Just try not to do anything too stupid!" She darts off into the woods.

Jamie turns to stalk back inside the facility, claws out as she tears out into a hallway. There's a security officer coming down the it from the other direction; he stops short at the sight of her, calling for his comrades. When they don't appear quick enough for his liking, he steps forward and shoots, unloading half a clip, stopping just as his team appears at his side. He's not aiming well in his haste and the shots mostly miss anything important, hitting her shoulder - arm - lower leg - belly, tearing straight through her side.

She staggers to the side, leaning heavy against a wall. She hurts, but the pain is welcome. It brings on the rage, and that's just what she needs right now.

A shout comes from someone behind the men, who are watching with eyes wide as her wounds stitch themselves back together rapidly. "What is it? Shoot, damn you, shoot!"

The command seems to have less effect on them than it ought to.

Now, faced with odds so ridiculous, why is it that they would hesitate? What reason could they possibly have? They could mow her down all the same. But unless she's quite mistaken, there's fear in the air. Wildthing takes full control and breathes deep the sweet scent of twelve large, well armed men sweating bullets because they now think it's possible she could kill them all even still.

They're right.

She grins a grin that's so wide and manic it could almost seem phsycotic. And then she pounces.

...

Gunshots ring out, frightening loud as they make it to the jet. Logan feels half deaf with the contraption on his wrist dampening his senses but he thinks he hears dogs, too, and...and did he just hear...?

"What is that? Is that a wolf?" Jake McCoy's eyes widen an he turns to scan the treeline.

"Doesn't matter. We'll be out of here soon." Sarah urges him to keep moving, helping along a limping Iceman.

"Hey, kid." Logan snatches up Sarah's arm as the others disappear inside the jet, pulling her aside. "You think you can get this blasted thing off my arm?"

"Well, I..."

"Look, I don't think it was a wolf we just heard, but I need my ears back to know for sure, so can yah do it or not?" She blows out a breath, steps back, brings a hand up to her visor. He holds his arm out, steady. "I know yah have the control." He tries to be a little gentler. "One quick blast, yah won't hurt me."

She fires away.

He shakes his arm out - it's singed, but should heal quick now. He closes his eyes and waits, but it takes a good minute.

He hears it again. A howl, high and whining, a cry for help, but that's not...

"Get those engines runnin' and get the rest of these guys the hell outta dodge. Don't wait up, yah understand?"

Sarah's eyes widen franticly. "No no, wait, but where are you...?"

"I'm goin' to get my daughter, is where I'm goin'! We'll find our own way out if we have to, now go get those engines up. Go!" He barks at her, and she darts off into the jet.

The howl sounds again, closer this time and frantic. He takes off running into the woods.

...

She can't keep running forever. All her winter gear is still sitting abandoned back at the facility. Even with her blood pumping so hard, even with so much adrenaline flooding her veins, the cold is beginning to slow her. The dogs on her tail are fast and beginning to catch her up and there's little chance Wildthing can take them on her own. And that's not even minding the fact that the guy with the sword could possibly chop her head clean off and be done with it. Her only half hope is to beg for a phonecall, just one. If she calls Trixie LaBelle, maybe they can work something out.

The snow prevents her from seeing the tree root she trips over. She lands hard, on her knees, shivering violently. She doesn't bother trying to get back up, just throws back her head and gathers what strength she still has and pushes out another howl. She has no idea where the sound comes from, she's certainly never made it before today, but her instincts had never led her astray before, so she doesn't stop to question it. Just hopes.

They surround her quickly; the dogs snarl and bark but don't attack as they haven't yet been ordered to. Their masters aim guns at her heart and head but she pays them little mind as she catches her breath. She's not afraid, really. She can hear the whir of large engines roaring to life in the distance; her mission was accomplished. She'd stalled them long enough. That's all she cares about.

The man with the sword comes forward. "You're not really going to make me use this, are you?"

She glares at him defiantly, but says nothing.

(Her ears pick something else up. Footsteps, crunching just lightly through the snow. The dogs whimper, restless.)

"What's the matter with these dumb mutts?" The man with the sword barks at his team.

"All the way out here, who knows what they're pickin' up, best just ignore 'em boss."

"I just need you to let me make a phone call." Jamie says quietly, pulling in the Swords attention again. "My name is -"

"I know who you are, Ms. Logan. You're making quite a name for yourself, but that doesn't excuse you breaking into our facility here."

"My friends were going to come up here with or without my help, I didn't have much choice."

"Someone must suffer the consequences all the same, what would you propose I do about this?"

Something catches Jamie's eye. Movement, just behind one of the men aiming a gun at her head. Hard hazel eyes, flushed heavily with gold. A slight smirk set on lips surrounded by stubble.

Wolverine winks.

She nods. "I would propose." She answers the Sword slowly. "That..you..all..duck."

"What're you...?" He spins around, back turning to her, clearly trying to figure out what she's looking at.

Her limbs feel stiff, frozen, but somehow she finds the strength to reach up with claws out; they sink knuckle deep into the Swords back on either side. By the time the Sword collapses, Logan has wrestled a gun away from one of the other men; he brings it up and shoots, sweeping it around in a wide arc. He hits multiple targets, and the rest scatter to find cover. Jamie leaves the Sword laying in the snow and tries to force her legs to move but she's half buried in snow and so cold. So very cold, so... Shivers wrack her body, so violent her teeth chatter, and she's not sure she can move.

She hears what goes on next more than she really sees. More gunshots ring out. Logan lets loose a thunderous roar, and then there's just a lot of rustling and snarling and shouting, until all goes mostly silent.

The jet hasn't taken off yet. Jamie can still hear it in the distance. Damn. Why aren't they leaving already?

Footsteps sound, coming up behind her, and she braces herself...but it's only Logan. "Can you run?"

"I don't think...I don't think I can." She stutters. "Too...cold."

"I can carry you."

She nods. He stoops down and lifts her, over his shoulders so she's sort of hanging off his back. He jogs through the snow, shockingly quick, as though she weighs nothing.

She probably does compared to him, she supposes.

The wind whips at her cheeks and bare arms, downright painful.

They're getting closer to the jet.

"They should've taken..taken off already." She murmurs.

"Yeah, I figured Summers would be too stubborn." He grumbles.

"I'm gettin'.. sleepy. Why sleepy?"

"Adrenalin's wearin' off and yahr dressed in next to nothin' in what, 0 degree weather at best? Hell, I'm surprised yah made it far as yah did, yah're probably bout two steps from froze solid."

Somewhat inexplicably, Jamie giggles. "About -20, actually."

"Huh?" He glances back at her.

"Celsius. It's -20 degrees." She manages to stutter between chattering teeth. "Yah been spendin' too much time in New York, old man."

There's a pause as he thinks on that, and then lets loose a chuckle himself. "Yeah. I guess you're right kid, I have. Hold on tight for me, we're almost there." He picks up the pace as the jet comes into veiw.

...

She heals Dr. McCoy of his wounds, and tries to muster the energy to do the same for Iceman, but she's exhausted. Mr. Drake eventually, gently, sends her off, thanking her for the effort. "The Doc can fix me up. You need sleep."

Logan suggests she should eat first and then sleep. He sits her down in the kitchen and, much to her pleasant surprise, begins going about the task of fixing her something himself. "I know you're tired but try to stay with me. Sleep will only do yah so much good, yah gotta refuel first." Eggs and bacon and some veggies all appear on the counter. He starts chopping.

"What happened to you guys up there?" She asks quietly as she watches him.

He doesn't miss a step, just calmly keeps to cooking while he answers. "Not sure I fully know. Seemed like someone was playin' mind games with the others. Don't always work so well on me. Heads too hard." He sends a wink in her direction. She giggles a bit and he goes on. "But Ororo put us down in that feild and there wasn't much I could do. Next thing I know they're all marchin' off into the snow, I followed 'cause I didn't have much choice."

The bacon and veggies sizzle in a skillet, doused in olive oil. The sound and smell is tantalizing; Jamie's stomach starts to growl. "But they all woke back up eventually? How did Dr. McCoy and Iceman get hurt?"

Logan doesn't answer this one immediately. The bacon cooks through and the veggies do their thing; the eggs are scrambled and poured into the skillet, left to cook a minute. He faces Jamie, hands in his pockets. "They put that thing on my wrist soon as they got ahold of me, guess they saw my claws and didn't wanna take any chances. So I was useless. An' they left us alone for a while in that cell. Couple hours maybe. The others got..sleepy. I don't know, they weren't actin' right. Kinda seemed to pass out until some men came for 'Ro." He goes back to cooking, shaking his head. "Hank fought 'em like hell, can't remember the last time I seen him so rabid. But it didn't do too much good. Bobby got caught in the crossfire and they didn't seem to pay me much mind at all, go figure."

"They didn't see you as a threat without your powers."

"I'm not sure I am one without them." He dishes up the eggs.

What appears in front of her isn't really an omlette. It's more just regular old scrambled eggs with a bunch of other yummy stuff mixed up in them. It smells heavenly, though. He begins to rinse and repeat with the ingredients, presumably beginning the process of fixing up enough of the simple dish for the others to eat as well.

"You could kick ass without them." She points out. "You beat me with skill."

"Skill counts for a helluva lot less when the other guys got a gun, kid."

Fair point. She digs in to her food. It tastes somehow even better than it smells.

"Do you know where Jake went?" She asks between bites, the thought just occuring to her. "He hasn't said a word to me since...I mean, I know his moms still MIA but what was I sup'osed to do?"

"You were sup'osed to do exactly what yah did." Logan points out, gruff now. "But he may not see it that way. He wanted yah to charge in with him. S'not your fault yah knew better."

"Yeah, I guess not. Still, maybe I should've..."

"You barely made it out on your own, and you actually knew what you were doin'. If you had taken him it might not have ended well for either of yah." He takes the dish away, as it's now quite empty. "Feel better?"

"Yeah, a little."

"Good. Go get some sleep. Don't worry about Jake. He's a big boy and he was gonna have to start handlin' his shit like one eventually. Nows as good a time as any. You've earned a rest."

She nods, and gets up, her thoughts growing jumbled and hazy as exhaustion takes over her again. A strange urge works at her, though, something she never would've thought of before but...but he's acting so much like a dad and the impulse takes her. Without warning, she spins around and darts across the room to throw her arms around his middle, hugging him tight. "Thank you."

He tenses at first, clearly startled. But soon enough his hand comes up to run through her hair a bit, soothing. "For what?" He asks softly, a touch of amusement coloring his tone. "Making sure my daughters got food in her belly 'fore goin' to sleep? Thought that was pretty standard."

She looks up at him. "No. For everythin' else."

There's a pause; he studies her for a minute, eyebrow raised, and then leans down to plant a kiss on her forehead. "Anytime, kid."

He always says that, anytime he does something for her. Anytime, kid. This time she takes note of the look in his eyes and thinks what he really means is I love you.

She sleeps peaceful on the thought and has no nightmares.


	17. A Slippery Slope 3

She hears his voice, down the hall a ways as she's heading outside to walk for a while and clear her head. She'd slept for some hours and it's late now, past time for the students to be in bed, so the mansion is quiet. She sniffs him out, tracking him to the rec room. He's talking to someone, his voice hushed, tone gentle. Who would he be...?

Oh. Of course. Jamie steps back a bit behind a wall before she's seen, meaning to just continue on with her original quest for some fresh air. She's not usually one to go listening on other peoples conversations but...

It's the Barbie Doll that Jake is with.

In a sudden fit of jealous suspicion, she decides to stay and listen a minute.

"You should go back to bed." The Redhead tells him.

"I couldn't sleep either." Jake answers. "And anyway, I mean...I hadn't gotten a chance to ask yet. If you're ok, I mean."

"I'm..." Sarah trails off, hesitating.

"You don't have to lie to me."

"I will be fine. I just wish I knew what that telepath did to my head. I mean, I worked so hard on it, learning how to switch it off, now I just don't..."

"Hey. C'mere."

Jamie's heart skips a beat. She knows that tone he just took. Peering back around the corner, her stomach drops. Sure enough, Jake's got his arms around Sarah, holding her gently.

Jamie forces her legs to carry her outside. It doesn't have to mean anything. Sarah's upset and they had grown up together, it makes perfect sense for him to offer a bit of comfort. That's all. So why is Wildthing pacing around so restless in her mental cage now? Jamie doesn't understand the reaction but can't seem to control it. Her blood boils, her fists clench, it's all she can do not to stalk back inside and...

And what? What does she want?

 _To break her face_. Wildthing answers the question. _How dare she get so close to him, he's mine._

I haven't marked him. She argues with herself as she stalks off into the night, pacing the grounds. He's not my mate yet.

 _So go and do it. Do it now._

He'd never agree, he doesn't really understand yet.

 _Of course he will, he feels it too._

We're too young still.

 _Old enough to fight in battle, old enough to mate as well._ The Wild Thing in her argues.

No, that logic is flawed. Jamie huffs a growl at herself. She'd killed a man at fourteen because that's just the hand she'd been dealt. Childhood ended long before it should have for her, but Jake is different, she can't push this too quickly. He needs time to discover things on his own. And besides, his mother's still missing, so what Wildthing is proposing will be the last on his mind right now. All this will just have to wait and as for Barbie...

Jamie likes to think she'd be above the sort of mentality that would send a man or woman off to picking a fight the minute their lover even gets half a step too close to the opposite sex. She likes to think she's got some class and just isn't that petty. She likes to think she can hold Wildthing off, that she's in better control.

Carol James Logan likes to think a lot of things to help herself sleep at night, but she really knows all of them to be just not true.

...

She slips inside the Danger Room and stands with her back to the wall, just watching him. A small hoard of simulated baddies throw themselves at him in waves, but his anger over powers them all with ease. He beats them to a pulp. She wonders what level the simulation is set to. Might not be very high; he seems to have wanted punching bags more than an actual challenge. She's been there before and thinks better of interrupting him. He'll tire himself out eventually.

"End simulation!"

"You're quite a sight when you get goin', hot stuff." She calls out as soon as things are quiet.

He jumps a bit, turning to her. "Shit." He spits out, breathless. "Where did you...?"

"Never never land." She answers sarcastically, and offers him a smile, holding out a bottle of Powerade for him to take. "Can we talk?"

He stalks over, a bit irritable, scowling at the sports drink. "Any chance yah got somethin' stronger?"

You've had enough of that the past month, we both have, she thinks, but knows he won't like that answer. "I could maybe swing that sometime soon. But, ah, I'd need a little incentive first." She says instead, hoping the distraction will be enough.

There's a slight pause. He blows out a breath, shaking his head as he takes the Powerade. "Thanks."

"Yep."

"I should shower."

She raises a suggestive eyebrow. "Yah know, it's late. No one cares we're down here. Or...what we're doing, probably."

He stares her down, hovering over her a bit. Playing tough. "Thought you just wanted to talk?"

She smirks up at him. "Always time for that later, right?"

Without warning he reaches down to snatch her up, throwing her over his shoulder and lumbering off towards the showers down the hall a ways as she bursts into hysterical giggles.

.

"I know I wasn't thinking clear." He says after, watching her as she finishes dressing.

Jamie shrugs. "I'm sorry if you felt like I didn't have your back. I always do, I was just worried you'd get hurt."

"That's fair enough." Jake huffs, pacing the room a bit. "It's just...I mean my mom was probably still in that place somewhere. Now how will we find her? They could've taken her anywhere." He pauses, lost in thought for a moment. "Unless it's possible you could..."

"No." Jamie snaps, harsher than she means to. "No, I couldn't. I'm in deep enough with Ouroboros as it is. Not that you care much what happens to me, apparently."

"Hey, that's not true and you know it." There's anger behind his eyes again. "I worry about you like crazy but your friends have my mother."

"I don't have any control over that, every favor I ask comes with a price!" Her blood begins to boil. Wildthing thrashes against her mental cage, wrought with jealousy over what she'd seen earlier in the night. "Would you be so quick to ask so much of Sarah? Or am I just that expendable?"

"Sarah?" Confusions registers. He scowls. "No. I wouldn't. But then again, she'd never pull the shit you've been pulling, so that is not a fair comparison. I mean, for all we know this is half your fault!"

"Excuse me?"

There's a slight pause. He hadn't meant to say what he did, but it's out there now. "Well it's just...you knew how to get us into the compound."

"I had to beg for that information!"

"Yeah, but you have to admit it is kinda funny how bad things seem to happen and it's always related to you somehow."

"This had nothin' to do with me, we were gone when the X-Men left on the scouting mission!"

"Yeah, and where exactly were we? All the way on the other side of the continent gettin' our asses beat by a couple of suits with guns that somehow knew who you were!" He lets loose a frustrated growl.

"Yeah I was the one takin' those bullets back at the Warehouse, I beat one of those suits to a bloody pulp in case yah forgot, and that's not to mention the mess I made at the facility when I was tryin' to make sure you guys had time to get to the jet." Jamie's fists clench as she comes to stand toe to toe with him. She's less than half his size but the look in her eyes is hard and angry enough that he flinches away a bit. "Why don't we just skip to the part where you explain what exactly you're implyin', bud." It's not a question.

"I just don't understand why you're playin' their games, that's all. What could they possibly have on you that justifies it? That's the only part you haven't explained."

Silence. There are many answers to that question, and she isn't interested in explaining any of them.

He shakes his head. His shoulders slump, the fire leaves his eyes; he suddenly seems utterly defeated. "I see, now, I think. My Mom even gave me fair warning. She said you'd be a hard case, that there may be no winnin' with you. Guess she really does know best. You're not capable of just trusting, are you?"

"I trust that everyones got an agenda." Jamie answers, gruff, arms crossing. "And I trust that when shit really hits the fan I can't count on anybody else lookin' out for me, 'cause most times they won't."

Jake studies her for a minute, gaze peircing. A moment passes in silence, until his jaw clenches as he seems to come to a decision. Turning his back to her, he stalks quickly out of the locker room, his strides determined. Bewildered though she now is, Jamie trails after him.

She's actually quite startled to see Logan leaning against the wall not far from the locker room door; he's clearly been there a minute if his expression is anything to go by. He'd been eavesdropping, and Jake had heard him approach. How had Jamie missed that?

Jake faces the older feral, anger in his eyes. "You manage to come flyin' to her rescue one measly time and somehow that earns you the right to eavesdrop on a private conversation?"

"Jake. Don't." Jamie lays a hand on his arm.

Logan holds his hands up in surrender. "Sounded like you two were fussin' at eachother, I just wanted to make sure everythin' was... you know what, you're right, kid. S'not my business. I'll keep walkin' next time."

"Yeah, you do that, old man." Jake snarls back. "Cause I'm kinda thinkin' the last thing she needs is -"

"Jake." It comes out half a growl this time; her grip on his arms tightens. "Don't. It's ok. You should go to bed. Now."

Jake huffs a growl, but turns to Jamie. The anger in his eyes is replaced with a mischievous light, rather abruptly too. "Fine. Just let me say goodnight." He leans down, quite deliberate, and plants a kiss on her lips. A very deep kiss. A rather passionate...his hand slips down low, caressing her hip, pulling her body flush against his, and she feels a certain, pleasurable sort of shiver run down her spine.

Wildthing howls in satisfaction inside Jamie's head. _Bet that redheaded Barbie doll never got one like this! Ha!_

"Yeah, very funny, kid. That's enough." Logan's voice becomes a growly command all at once. "Alright, hands off my daughter, it ain't a suggestion. Jesus. You got a death wish or what, bub?"

With a satisfied smirk, Jake lets her go and struts off down the hallway, clearly quite proud of himself and not at all intimidated.

Jamie rakes a hand through her hair, blowing out a breath. She feels as though she needs another shower now, a very cold one this time. Logan clears his throat expectantly, and she forces herself to face him, hands on her hips, head held high. "Right. Ahem. Uh. You need somethin', old man, or...?"

Scowling now, her father stalks past her, following Jake's path back upstairs. "Pull yourself together and meet me outside. We need to talk."

"Uh-huh. Yes, sir." She answers, her voice cracking a bit as she wobbles back into the locker room.

...

"You two been drinkin'?" Logan questions as she slips outside some few minutes later. "I won't ask where yah got it from if yah have, it's just if yah haven't then the talk I have with the boys father is gonna be a very different one."

"We haven't but take it easy on him, Pops." Pops? Where the hell did that come from? He raises an eyebrow, and she stutters a bit, pulling out a cheap cigar to light as she plows on. "It's kinda really my fault. I took him up to hang out at the Warehouse with me, that's where we were for the last month. You know well as I do how easy it is to lose yourself, hangin' out with that crowd. It was fun but we were just gone a little too long, is all. He just needs someone to talk a little easy sense back into him." She lights up her smoke. "Probably anybody that isn't me, at this point."

"The Warehouse?" Logan questions, sounding oddly alarmed as his eyes narrow at the cigar she brings to her lips.

"Yeah." Her brows furrow. "I know, it probably wasn't the best way to introduce a good-goody like him to the rest of the world but I -"

"Were you workin' the cages again?"

"Oh. Yeah. Hell, I don't think they'd let me get away with showin' my face up there and not fightin' a match or two, an' who can pass up on that kinda easy money?"

Logan starts to just look sad. "Drinkin' again, too, I'd sup'ose." Quieter now.

"Totally legal up there, in my defense." She answers, careless.

Logan shakes his head; his brows are furrowed. "You know, I been singin' your praises to yahr Ma."

She stares at him owlishly now, caught off guard. "You..have?"

"Mmhmm. Tellin' her all about how well yah been doin' down here still. Trainin' with the team 'n helpin' out around here 'n takin' better care of yourself." Jamie starts a bit at this, glancing down at the cigar. He plows on. "She gushes everytime I mention you, talkin' all about how proud she is that the new babies are gonna grow up with you for a sister."

Guilt settles like a bomb in her belly. She looks away, taking a long drag from her cigar and letting it out slow. She can think of nothing to say.

He heaves a tired sigh. "But then I guess I always knew yah'd be right back at it the first chance yah found. Hard not to when that's all yah know."

"Sorry, Pops." There it is again. That's what Jack calls Logan and it always seemed fitting but Jamie had never felt any urge to use it before. But the tone of Logan's voice just now, the way his brows are furrowed in worry and not anger, the way he so clearly wants to try and care for her now, it's wearing on her. She feels sick to her stomach with the guilt that wracks her and decides he's earned the right. He is her father after all. "Jake wanted an adventure and I just thought I'd give him one. The way he was talkin', I was afraid he'd get bored of me. Then we got up there and..I guess I didn't realize how much I had missed it."

"Slope is a slippery one if yahr not payin' attention." Logan says. "I understand, kid. An' yahr right, Jake'll sort himself back out, he's just got a lot on his mind right now. It's you I'm worried about. You make one decision on impulse to hop in the car and head up to visit some old friends and within what, days I'm guessin'? Yah were already fallin' back on all the old habits."

Jamie stamps her cigar out. "I slipped for a while. I'll clean it back up, now, ok?"

"Can you?"

"I promise." She offers, with a confidence she doesn't feel. She's in it even deeper with Ouroboros now and Jake's becoming a complicated thing again and she suddenly isn't sure of anything anymore.

His jaw clenches. "I'm holdin' you to that. You guys aren't students anymore and the younger kids will start lookin' up to you, 'specially now that yah've been on yahr first mission as X-Men. Try to keep that in mind."

"Yes, sir."

He sends her back off to bed.

...

Trixie LaBelle contacts her the next evening. "Our target is back in town, preparing to throw a banquet. He'll expect for you to be his date."

No rest for the wicked, then. Jamie sighs. "I'll leave tonight."

It's after midnight by the time she drags herself downstairs with a duffle bag, packed and ready to go. Things have settled some after the excitement of the last few days, and she's not actually expecting anyone else to be awake.

"Leaving again so soon?" The voice startles Jamie. It's just Sarah, though. "And without Jake? Where are you going?"

Jamie huffs a disgruntled growl at the redhead. "I must've missed the part where that became your business."

Sarah shows only mild signs of actual hostility, though it's difficult to decipher her full demeanor with her eyes hidden behind a pair of rose-tinted glasses, the only thing keeping her power at bay now. "Have you stopped to think maybe we could use your help here?"

"Logan's back. I'm not needed, and you don't want me here anyway."

"Does Jake know you're leaving?" The firebrand counters quickly. "I mean..I know that's not my business either, really, but I just hope you're not -"

A spike of jealous anger sends Wildthing to breaking free of her mental cage without Jamie's permission. She stalks toward Sarah, fists clenched. "Just what? Tryin' to ghost him? Oh, but I bet that's exactly what you're hopin' for. Isn't it, Malibu Barbie?"

Sarah backs up, hand raised to her visor, poised to attack if need be now. "Look, I'd be lying if I said I didn't wish he'd realized the mistake he's making in you but he won't so that's not the point." She says quickly, trying to explain. "I can't let you just run off and leave him without explaination, I'm not sure what he'd do but I don't want to find out!"

 _"You oughta be more concerned with yourself, Princess!" Wildthing shoves the redhead back against the wall with brute force, holding her there while a set of claws slips out to hover just inches from her neck. "I catch you within' reachin' distance of my mate again and I'll gut yah like a fish, you smug, scrawny little -"_

That's what Jamie imagines doing. That's what she'd really like to do and say. But she doesn't. She blows out a breath, and beats Wildthing back with the usual mental cattle prod before responding, for real this time. "Jake knows. I wouldn't go anywhere without tellin' him." She relaxes her stance some. "Jesus. You sure like givin' lectures, don't yah? You never know half as much as you think you do, either." Trying for the more usual tone of 'snarky' now.

Sarah drops her hand slowly, though she's clearly still tense. "I wasn't sure how to go about this. I'm not even sure what I intended to do if you were sneaking off in lieu of breaking up with him. I'm just worried about him."

"You're not the only one, but he can take care of himself." Jamie points out. "And even if he couldn't, I'd have him instead. You'd better get it through your head -"

"Or what?" The redhead challenges readily.

Jamie weighs her options, and just shakes her head. "Or I won't have to lift a finger. He's gonna learn to hate you for bein' so pushy, and it's gonna be your own fault, Princess. That's the beauty of it."

Sarah seems almost startled. She doesn't respond.

The feral rakes a hand through her hair and spins on her heel, snatching up her bag from where she'd dropped it earlier and heading for the door again.

"Hey. You better watch yourself, Cavewoman." Sarah calls after her with a renewed burst of fire. "Come at me with a look like that again and I might be tempted to fry you without bothering to ask questions first."

Jamie doesn't look back, just snorts. "Sure yah will, Barbie. Sure yah will."

...

The man Ouroboros has had her spying on is a politician. A state senator, in fact, as smooth as they come but sweet as could be, too. Gathering information from him is easy as he's so strangely trusting of her. Most of what she overhears of his converstaions when he's working has to do with mutant related legislation - or at least, that's the bits that Ouroboros is concerned with.

The trouble is, he's quite blatantly fighting in favor of mutants, and seems particularly against the controversial registration act. She doesn't quite understand - why would Ouroboros care about any of that? More importantly, why would they be spying on the man working in favor of mutant rights? Are they against such policies? Why would they be so determined to recruit Jamie to their ranks if they were somehow anti-mutant?

She tries to question Ms. LaBelle on this, but gets no real answers. Which isn't shocking in the least.

.

Her targets smiles at the sight of her, his happiness genuine. "I missed you, my angel."

A velvet box appears before her. There's diamonds and rubies inside it, delicately encased in gold. He comes from old money, is almost as rich as her grandmother. He probably paid for the jewels outright without much trouble, but even still, it's doubtful he wouldn've spent so much on just anybody. She can't imagine how she's sold herself so well. Maybe she hasn't and he actually appreciates the quirks she displays; the thought only adds to the guilt she feels for it all.

He probably doesn't deserve this.

Later that night, after they've danced the night away and she'd impressed him with her skills and random knowledge of the arts. After designer heels have been kicked off and the necklace carefully removed and the little black dress shimmied out of and she's left in nothing but the scant slips of lace that'll send her target's heart to beating a mile a minute once he's out of the bath, she sneaks out to the balcony off the parlor room down the hall. She needs to hear Jake's voice, if only just for a minute.

The phone rings, just the once. The call is rejected. She scowls down at the thing and heaves a tired sigh.

He doesn't want to talk to her, after all.

...

"So - so what? One little prick of the needle and what? What does it do?"

Trixie holds up the small syringe filled with a strange blue liquid. "When used on any other subject we've tested it on the effects have, to put it simply, turned them into what you are naturally. Strong and fast with senses as acutely attuned as any apex predator on record, perhaps a bit moreso even."

Jamie's brows furrow. "So then why don't you have a dozen other guys on the stuff? Why do you even need me?"

"Because it kills them." Trixie replies, blasé. "None of our other tests subjects could withstand continued use. They grew weak, frail, eventually died of natural causes as though they were ninety years old."

This elicits a raised eyebrow from Jamie. "Hm. So what exactly are we thinkin' it's gonna do to me?"

"Oh, I haven't the faintest, really. But you would almost certainly be resistant to the rapid deterioration we saw in our other subjects, enough so that I've been fully approved to test it on you. You are well within your rights to decline to continue using it at any time if you feel any ill effects. We'll start slow."

"Fantastic." Jamie grumbles.

"I could find another way for you to be useful." Trixe offers, casual. "We could always use the muscle."

Muscle. Jamie scowls. She doesn't like the idea of being a lab rat, but given the choice between that and the job of common attack dog she thinks she'd probably prefer the former. "Alright, fine. So how do we do this?"

Trixie leads her along through the winding corridors inside the complex that serves as Ouroboros' headquarters. An elevator awaits them; they take it down until they are well below ground, and Jamie's unease grows.

She really is a lab rat.

The testing facility is a cavernous room, probably the length and width of a football feild. The ceiling sweeps up high above; halfway up along one wall running lengthwise there's a panel of thick glass that she can't see through. Probably an observation room.

"Ahkay, what the hell is that?" Jamie blurts, startled by the sight before her. Set in about the middle of the room there's a large sort of - robot? It must be. It's must be a dozen feet tall and appears to be made out of some sort of plastic if she isn't mistaken.

Trixie smirks. "That. Is what you're about to be up against."

"Excuse me?"

"Forgive me, perhaps I should've warned you. It's a security sentinel, something newer that a private company has been working on. We've been using it on all our test subjects. So far none can fully get past it, though some have come close. You see that panel on it's chest? Get that off and pull the wires inside, the thing will shut down in an instant."

"Uh-huh. And, ah, just what exactly is this thing armed with?"

"Oh, you'll see. Are you ready to begin?"

"I'm..sorry, I thought you were supposed to give me a hit of your go-juice there first?"

"Well first we must see how well you fair without it. We can't know the serums full effects on you unless we see what you managed without it first."

"Jesus, I didn't sign up for this." Jamie rakes a hand through her hair.

"Last chance. If you wish to back out -"

"Lets jus' get this over with."

"As you wish." Trixie exits the room.

Jamie stalks up to the thing cautiously. It really is massive. She takes a stroll around it, feeling along the strange material armoring it. She's not sure what it's made of. It doesn't look or feel like any sort of plastic she's seen before.

She hears it as whatevers powering the thing whirs to life from within it. Backing away smartly, she watches as it comes to life. Glowing green eyes lock on to her slight frame as the rest of it lights up the same color. She almost gets the impression it's scanning her; a moment passes and it lifts it's hand.

Eyes widening, she dodges just in time.

A sort of net flies out and across the room, landing not far from where Jamie had been standing. Well. That was..tamer than expected.

"Alright." Jamie mutters. "Lets see..." She sprints forward and ducks beneath the arm it extends, slipping in close to jump up and latch onto it's torso.

the robot doesn't seem to like that. It's color changes to yellow. Movements eerily smooth, it reaches up and tries to get ahold of her arm. She was expecting this, at least sort of, and half dodges. It gets hold of her shirt; she pops her claws and reaches over, using them to help to tear the sleeve away. She drops, hitting the ground but rolls, bouncing back up to her feet and sweeping a leg out reflexively. It hits home, knocking one of the robots legs out from under it. It's other knee hits the ground. The the thing doesn't miss a beat; an attachment pops up on it's shoulder. Some sort of dart shoots from it, hitting Jamie in the shoulder. She comes at the thing again, careless, spinning into a kick that lands right on the panel at it's chest.

The panel falls off.

Mission halfway accomplished? Seems too easy.

Whatever was in the dart works it's way through her blood stream. A hint of dizziness reaches her; she plucks out the dart and scowls down at it, waiting the few seconds it'll take for her ridiculous metabolism to take care of it.

The robot gets back to it's feet. The breifest of moments passes, as though it's inspecting itself. And then it turns red.

Uh oh. Is red bad? Red is probably bad. She braces herself, expecting more firepower to be displayed. Instead, it crouches down, seeming to scan her again, and then charges. Literally. She's never seen any kind of robot or anamatronic that can move quite like this. It sprints forward, right at her, so fast she hardly has time to react at all. It catches her up and uses it's own momentum to spin around and send her flying, like a damned ragdoll. She sails across the room and hits the wall all the way on the far end; thankfully, the walls are padded. Unfortunately, she still feels something snap on impact. Maybe a few things, actually. Ok. So red was very bad.

She seriously did not sign up for this shit.

The robot powers down, either because the folks watching had turned it off themselves, or because Jamie had clearly ceased to be a threat for the moment. She can't tell which.

Several moments pass wherein she can't quite muster the energy to pull herself up from being nothing more than a crumpled heap on the floor. Everything kind hurts. She's almost afraid to move at all.

The silence in the room is shattered by the sound of Trixie LaBelle's stillleto heels click-clacking their way across the floor. "My, my. How does it feel to be the one beaten for a change?"

Jamie mutters at her incoherently, something gruff and mean. She manages to move some, climbing up so she's on her hands and - spots dance before her eyes as she puts pressure on her arm. A gasps escapes her lips, totally involuntary, but she can't even breathe in fully. The pain doubles and reaches an incredible sort of crescendo that might actually be beyond anything she's felt before. Just as she's not sure she can handle much more, Trixie LaBelle's voice reaches her ears again, muttering something to someone else, sounding urgent. And then she knows no more.

...

She dreams, disjointed images of past events interspersed with washes of color and plain nonesense -

 _Jake, his lips pressed to hers as she runs her hands through the soft blue fluff covering his head -_

 _Logan - no, Wolverine - claws out and sailing forward to slice straight through the gut of a big man wearing body armor - "...anytime, kid, I've got yah now..."_

 _Her grandmother, with that long barreled pistol in hand - "...you insolent little brat of a bastard..."_

 _Jake again, cheering her on from within a crowd of others, viewed through the wall of a cage - "Wildthing, Wildthing!"_

 _Anna, standing with hands on her hips as if scolding a child - "Yah're not an animal, Jamie Logan, don't let them turn yah into one!"_

 _Her mother for some reason, looking a vision, glowing almost, offering up a wan smile - "...wake up, my Munchkin, yah can't sleep in forever now, can you?"_

.

She hears the new voices just distantly, as though she's still dreaming.

 _"Incredible. Six seperate bones broken and total regeneration seems to have fully progressed in but a matter of days. I see no signs of bruising."_

 _"The healing is total? You're certain?"_

 _"Her breathing has returned to normal, that would seem to suggest the punctured lung has fixed itself. The damage was quite extensive, I believe that to be the only reason the process took even what time it did."_

 _"Did you sedate her? She's been out for so long."_

 _"No, no. I doubt I could keep her out that way for any sustained period of time, not with anything I have on hand here, she'd burn it off far too fast. I believe the long rest is subconsciously wilfull on her part. Healing so many broken bones would of course be taxing on even her system. Perhaps her body decided this would be the easiest way to fix itself. Such a mechanism might also serve as a defense, not unlike the way certain animals will 'play dead', so to speak. Her breathing has been considerably slowed, and I could scarce have detected her heart beating at all if not for the use of a machine."_

 _"Indeed? That's quite fascinating. She is a remarkable one, is she not?"_

A pause.

"...Ms. LaBelle..."

 _"What is it, Dr. Larson?"_

 _"You did know she would heal like this? From such extreme wounds?"_

 _"Not to worry, Dr. Larson, I had every reason to believe she would, and she submitted to the test quite voluntarily besides."_

A tired sigh. _"Quite right, of course she did. They always do, don't they? Oh. What lovely timing you have. I think she's coming around. Ms. Logan? Jamie? Can you hear me?"_

Someone taps at her shoulder.

Awareness returns to her, startlingly all at once. None of the smells she's surrounded by are terribly familiar and her last memory is of being in incredible pain. Running all on instinct, she shoots to a sitting position as a hand reaches up to snatch the doctors wrist in an iron grip. "What - where -," she stutters while half barking, glancing around, "who the hell are you?"

"Easy now, dear," the old man murmurs back, quiet, soothing, "I'm Dr. Larson. You've been under my care, there was an..incident, in the testing facility. Please, let me go. My old bones can't take much abuse before breaking."

It takes another half minute but she remembers herself, letting go his arm. "Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean -"

"I'm sure you didn't." He responds with compassion, shaking out his wrist. "Try to take a deep breath. Do you remember what happened?"

Jamie rolls her shoulder out, groaning as the muscles pull a bit and something pops. Broken bones don't heal through as fast, not when there's multiple of them at once. It could be a day or two before she's at full strength again. She glares at Trixie LaBelle. "Yeah. I remember."

Trixie crosses her arms neatly, standing tall. "Forgive me. Our other tests subjects were a good deal, uhm..that is to say, they had a little more weight to them. I'm afraid I forgot to account for the difference in, erm, stature when having the sentinel calibrated."

"I get it." Jamie snaps, half snarling, and groans. Any movement too sharp or sudden leads to pain radiating out from somewhere.

Dr. Larson reaches for his stethoscope. "Are you breathing alright? Your lung was -"

Wildthing snaps to attention, snatching up the doctor's wrist as he reaches out to press the stethoscope against her chest. "Don't touch me." She snarls, voice half a growl.

The poor old doctor freezes, eyes widening a touch. "I'm only attempting to do my job."

Jamie forces herself to calm down. Taking a breath, she lets him go. "It's alright." She says slowly, trying to think of how to explain. "I'd guess you haven't dealt with too many ferals before. I wouldn't make a habit of gettin' that close to a wounded one without clear consent first. There could be others who don't have the restraint that I do."

"Duly noted." He shakes out his wrist.

"How long was I out?" Jamie asks Trixie.

"Four days." Dr. Larson interjects quickly, his voice a touch gentler. "The normal rate of healing for such extensive injuries should've equaled out to months, and much of that spent in a hospital bed. You, my dear, are gifted indeed."

"Four days." Jamie mutters, raking a hand through her hair. "Right. Ok. Can...can I be dismissed?"

"Of course." Trixie replies without hesitation. "I've suspended any further testing, ideally until Dr. Larson approves, though I should think now would actually be the optimal time for your first dose of the serum. It will likely aid in your recuperation."

Jamie hops down off the table, and groans as her left leg nearly gives out upon impact. "I'll make you a deal."

"I'm listening."

"Get me some whiskey and a room with a tub to soak in, and you can do whatever yah want with me tomorrow."

Trixie thinks on that for a breif moment and nods.

...

After allowing the good doctor to look her over - at his insistance, though she attempts in turn to insist that it isn't needed - she makes her way through the halls of the facility. The trek to the cafeteria is a slow one, as she's limping heavily, but sustenance brings with it the promise of further healing, so it is worth it in the end.

She comes across others, bustling about the halls. Agents and office workers going about their usual tasks in the middle of a busy work day, a strange reminder that it's only maybe three in the afternoon. Some give her a mile-wide berth, eyeing her with equal measures of curiosity and fear behind their eyes. Always fear. There was a time, not so long ago at all, that she would've been proud of that. Proud to feel as though her presence demanded respect in any form to spite her size and pretty face. But she remembers - Logan looking almost distraught in a way at the thought of her stepping into a cage again, and Joan Fletcher once admitting to being afraid of her.

Every move she makes now is wrong. She's pushing them away, a little bit at a time, and the thought occurs to her that the grace she's been given will have to run out eventually.

The food this place serves is surprisingly decent. She stuffs herself quite full and then sits back a moment, taking a breath (though she can't take a terribly deep one yet) as she pulls out her cellphone to check the thing for a thousandth time. It had displayed multiple new messages when she'd first gotten it back. One was from Logan, wondering where she'd run off too; he'd sounded disappointed by her sudden absence, and she'd been unable to bring herself to return the call just yet. The other two were from her mother. Jamie had called the older woman back already.

She still hasn't heard a word from Jake.

"No. Hell no. Please tell me I'm just sleep deprived, I _want_ to be hallucinatin'."

Jamie blinks, shaken out of her reverie. She knows that voice.

A half moment more passes and he appears before, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. His hair has grown out from the mohawk he'd had when she last saw him, and he looks oddly wilder for it; other than that her brother looks about the same as ever.

Too sore and mentally exhausted to be very surprised, she just stares up at him from where she's slouched back in her chair, eyebrow raised. "Jack?"

"What the hell are you doin' here, sister?"

"Uhm. I could ask you the same thing, for the record," she answers, blasé, "I mean, where've you been hiding anyway?"

He sits himself across from her. "They had me on assignment - uh - well, I was out of the country." He grumbles, evasive. "Sorry, I know it's been awhile since we talked, but come on now, I'm not kiddin'. What're you doin' here?"

"That's...a long story."

"Try me."

She scrubs a hand over her face. "Well, the short answer is that I'm an idiot and my punishment for that was a giant, angry robot."

He blinks at her.

"...just, don't ask, 'kay?"

"Kay."

"So wait, you work for these guys too? How...?"

"Judging by the way they got ahold of me in the first place, I'm highly doubting this is coincidental." He answers darkly.

"They were watching you, too." Jamie answers, quieter now. "I see."

"They've got an eye on a lot of us, in case yah hadn't already figured that out."

She sighs. "The though might've crossed my mind."

"Aww, Jesus, I wish I'd known, kid, I'd've told yah to just tell 'em no. You can sorta do that, at first."

"Points moot now. And for fucks sake, I ain't a kid. Next person to call me that's gettin' a boot up there backside."

Something crosses his face - some combination of worry or confusion or pity or something else entirely, she can't quite tell, he schools his expression too quick for her to identify it fully. "Right, sorry, sorry. So...you agreed to fight the robot?"

"Yep."

"...so I suppose they're plannin' to test the serum out on you."

Her brows furrow. She sits straight now, studying him. The tone of his voice... "You know about all that?"

He's got a hard look in his eyes now. "Trixie had me up as a test subject, just a bit before you appeared probably, but I was..needed elsewhere. They haven't tested the serum on me yet."

A thought wiggles its way into Jamie's mind. All those months ago, before she'd ever left Alberta for the Mansion, Jack knew Victor had found her before Logan knew anything at all. It had never occured to her; how had Jack known? In fact, a lot of things suddenly don't add up. His abrupt departure from the Mansion, for one. Where had they had him for the past several months? And she'd just love to know how he managed to get on Ouroboros' radar in the first place. And why had Trixie failed to mention their being another viable test subject for the serum?

"Somethin' tells me she and I are gonna have a lot to talk about here soon, come to think of it." Jamie gets to her feet. "S'good to see you though, Jack."

He softens. "Good to see you too, sister. Just wish it wasn't here, of all places."

"Yeah, well. Funny ol' world, isn't it? I'll see yah 'round." With that, she leaves him.

His eyes bore into her back as she goes. She ignores him.


End file.
